Discover the Dawn
by OrcaPotter
Summary: Timothy's Story: Novel One. Join Timothy in a year of mystery and suspense as himself and a whole new cast of characters must discover what a peculiar Prefect is up to, ending up with the beginning of something unimaginable! Sequel to The Renee Chronicle
1. Expectations

A/N: Oooh rapturous joy! Behold, the much anticipated sequel to Renee's Chronicle! As we said goodbye to Renee and her series, it only just began the story of her son, Timothy. And hark, here it is! Discover the Dawn, Timothy Potter's story! I knew you couldn't wait for this, and I was missing writing about Renee and the gang, so as soon as I had enough stuff set up to start this series, I began to write. I was going to make this a prolouge or something, but I figured to go ahead and make this chapter one. It only introduces us to Timothy himself, and how life in the Potter family is now... I'm still figuring out the plot of this story, but you won't see any hint of that 'till at least chapter 3. However, I'm sure you'll enjoy this chapter, it's long and juicy!  
As for Renee herself, I've set up a website for her at http://www.expage.com/page/theworldofreneepotter GO and check that out, please! Her bio is there, and more to come... as well as updates on my current works in progress.  
I'm still working on my own novel, Land Of the Four Powers. I was shocked to not get that many reviews for it... so if you have spare time, go read that and review please! ::gives puppy eyes:: I like reviews... hey, who doesn't?!  
Oh gee, this is long, sorry! I'll stop for now and let you read. AND one important thing, if you're new to me, ::waves hello to new peeps::, I sudgest that you go read the 4 previous series of the Renee Chronicles before... but now that I think of it, you may not have to. Etam Luos is first, then Hatred's Prisoner, Break In the Darkness, and Battle of Destiny... as well as the Epilogue.  
::sneaks to the side to let people read::  
DISCLAIMER: Oh, here it goes! Hello world, my name is Orca... not J.K. Rowling and I am not responsible for anything Potter. However, I am responsible for Timothy, Renee, Kalina, Jeff... and anyone else you may not recognize!  
  
  
Chapter One: Expectations  
  
  
For as long as he could remember, Timothy Potter had always been gawked at whenever he left the comforts of his home. Being the son of the famous Harry and Renee Potter, he always got special treatment that all the other kids never got. He tried his best to cope with his celebrity status, even though that he himself never did anything, just his parents. Surprisingly, for a boy with as much popularity that he had, Timothy did not have too many friends. Everyone liked him for his name and heritage, not for himself. This did not bother him too much, for the people he admired most were the ones that truly knew him for who he was.  
  
His parents.  
  
"Timothy! Timothy, mum wants you!"  
  
Timothy was in his room, under his bed, looking for his favorite toy.  
  
"Timothy!"  
  
"Kalina! I'm busy!" He coughed from the darkness. Blindly swinging his arm back and forth, he tried desperately to part all the toys that he secretly "cleaned" underneath there to search for the one he treasured most.  
  
"Timothy, mum's gonna get mad if you don't come now!"  
  
Annoyed and overwhelmed by dust, Timothy crawled backwards and pulled himself up from the floor, only to face his five-year-old sister. She was tall for her age, with long dark brown hair and green eyes. Kalina and Timothy had always had a close relationship, he always watched out for her. She was exceedingly bright for five years old, and she continued to baffle everyone she made contact with.  
  
She was looking him up and down while stifling a laugh. Timothy looked at himself to see his black slacks and ivory colored shirt covered in dust. Quickly brushing himself off, Kalina jumped on his bed and lifted his pillow.  
  
"If you're looking for Hoot, I believe this is him." She turned and held out Timothy's old stuffed owl.  
  
Blushing quickly and swiping the well-loved toy from her little hands, Timothy uttered a small thank you. Kalina laughed and fell back on his pillow, staring at the ceiling. It was painted by their mother to look like the sky. Blue with fluffy clouds during the day, and a clear view of space at night. At mid-morning, the blue sky was as blue as ever and the clouds were few.  
  
"A bird flew across my ceiling this morning," She said to her brother as he tried to push all the toys that he had kicked out from under his bed back in. "Has one ever flew across yours?"  
  
Timothy fixed his round, black glasses and pushed back his messy black hair. He looked up at her with his blue eyes.  
  
"Sure, all the time."  
  
Kalina picked at his sheets.  
  
"Mum's gonna be upset to see you haven't made your bed yet."  
  
He stood up and grabbed the sheet from her.  
  
"I could make it if you move." He said blandly.  
  
His sister frowned and rolled off of his bed, standing at his side with her arms crossed as he made his rounds to fix his bed. Timothy stopped to look at her with exasperation.  
  
"You could help, you know."  
  
Kalina stuck up her nose.  
  
"Why? You don't help with mine."  
  
Timothy groaned and narrowed his eyes at her, roughly throwing the sheets over the bed and fixing the comforter. He threw the tossed pillows from the floor back on top and dusted off his hands while glaring at his little sister.  
  
Suddenly, his door swung open and standing in the doorway stood his mother, Renee Potter. She was wearing her dark blue wizarding robes and her long brown hair was in a braid. Average in height, yet still towering over Timothy and his sister, her large blue eyes were narrowed directly at him.  
  
"Timothy, I told Kalina to get you, what have you been doing?"  
  
Kalina put on a cocky grin and strutted over to stand beside her, and stared at Timothy with an amused look. Timothy felt silly.  
  
"I lost… I lost Hoot. I was looking for him." He blabbed.  
  
His mother shook her head.  
  
"Sorry." He added quickly.  
  
"Well, hurry up then. Your Grand and Pa are waiting to talk to you through the fire. They won't be able to call again since they're going to Peru for the next four weeks."  
  
Quickly fixing his hair, Timothy slid past his mother's stare and his sister's mocking smile to find himself in the living room. The fire in the fireplace was blaring and the face of his grandmother Springs beamed at him.  
  
"There's my boy!" She cried. Timothy could have sworn that if she could, she would pinch his cheeks. He absentmindedly rubbed them at the thought.  
  
"Hello Grand." He said politely.  
  
Her New York accent was deep and she talked at a mile a minute.  
  
"How's my big eleven year old doing, huh? Ready to start that boarding school, eh? Going to make us all proud, you are! Yes! Your mom was top of her class at there Hogwarts, and your dad… oh boy!"  
  
She rambled on for another five minutes, Timothy putting on his sweet smile and nodding every so often to convince her that he was listening. He wanted desperately to get out on his broom and practice riding before his dad got home. However, every time Timothy wanted to finalize the conversation, his grandmother would start on something else.  
  
"Oh, here's your Pa, hun. You be a good boy now and listen to what your mom and dad tell you, and be good at school and do all your work." His Grand's face disappeared to give way for his grandfather.  
  
"Hello, young man. What'cha been up to?"  
  
"Hello Pa, oh… just riding my broomstick, that's all. Dad's been teaching me some new tricks."  
  
"Broomstick, eh? Why in my day, in the service that is…" He did exactly what his grandmother had done, go rambling on to more boring dialogue that had Timothy trying to prevent himself from yawning. Much to his relief, not soon after the front door slammed shut and he heard his father's loud sigh.  
  
"Dad's home!" Timothy jumped happily.  
  
His mother walked into the living room smiling.  
  
"Hey, daddy, I'm sure Harry wants to speak with you." She came up beside Timothy who was squirming to go see his father, but she kept a hand on his shoulder.  
  
His grandfather put on a professional look.  
  
"Need more advice, huh?"  
  
"That's right."  
  
"Dad!" Timothy broke from his mother's grip to run into the outstretched arms of his father. After a hug and a ruffling of Timothy's hair, his wide smile turned up to his wife and then to the fire where his father-in-law stared blankly. He got up and started to converse with him, Timothy's mother in his arm and they got into an adult conversation. Timothy stood in the archway of the living room with a frown, as Kalina came to stand beside him. She looked up at him with large green eyes that belonged to their father.  
  
"Adult talk is so boring, huh?" She said.  
  
"Emm…" Timothy agreed, turning to go back to his room. Kalina bounded after him.  
  
"Are you and dad going out to fly this afternoon before we go shopping?" She asked before he could shut her out of his room. The small window at the end of the room shown sunlight in, making the teal and scarlet textured walls bright. He grabbed for his broom which was hung on the wall and stared at it. Kalina came up to stare beside him.  
  
"I really need a new broom, especially for Hogwarts." He muttered to her as he turned and went to sit on his bed. Kalina came and sat beside him.  
  
"But I thought first years can't have brooms, dad only had one because he could play well."  
  
Timothy frowned at her.  
  
"Oh? And you're saying that I can't play well?"  
  
Kalina shook her head quickly at his look. He shrugged and reached for the polishing kit that was just as battered as the broom. His broom, the Genesis, was a birthday gift from his parents for his 6th birthday. Five years later, the broom definitely showed the signs that it was well used and pieces were beginning to fray. Taking out the oil from his kit, he polished the handle with great care, doing everything that he had seen his father do to his own broom. Kalina watched with a slight yawn.  
  
"I think Quidditch is boring, I'd rather color with mum's paints."  
  
Timothy sighed and shook his head, he was used to hearing that from her. It was quite a shock to everyone, even his mother played Quidditch and was just as good on a broom as his father. But his mother's creative side went with full force on Kalina, and her only interests were in drawing and painting.  
  
There was a knock on the door, and it swung open to reveal the messy black hair and round glasses of their father, Harry.  
  
"Ready to go, kids?" He asked.  
  
Timothy nodded and put his stuff away. Kalina jumped and ran to their father, him picking her up with a smile.  
  
"Got your list, son?" He asked Timothy, as he fixed his glasses and went to stand beside him in the doorway.  
  
"Uh huh." He pulled the list out from his pocket.  
  
"Right then, let's go."  
  
They walked into the living room, their mother waiting with Floo Powder. She smiled at them and tossed a handful into the fire, making it flare up with green flames and a slight hiss.  
  
"I'll go first." She said, stepping inside the fire. "See you in a moment!" Their mother turned to the fire. "Diagon Alley!" And with a flash, she was gone.  
  
"Go on, Timothy. You next." His dad gave him a gentle push at the shoulders.  
  
Timothy stepped into the fire, yelled "Diagon Alley!", and he felt the floor disappear and the world began to swirl around him. He was used to it, and soon got off to stand by his mother.  
  
"Hey honey." She tried to fix his hair. He sighed, because it was futile to make his hair neat… it was naturally messy, jut like his dad's.  
  
Kalina got out of the fire next, giggling loudly.  
  
"What so funny, Kalina?" Their mother asked, tucking a strand of Kalina's hair behind her ear.  
  
It took the little girl a few moments to calm down, her dark brown hair ruffling with her severe giggling. Timothy just stared at her and their mother had an amused grin.  
  
"Jeff woke up just before I left!" She managed to say. "He wanted to come with us, but dad said no. I left while they were arguing."  
  
"Oh dear." Their mother sighed, still grinning. Timothy suddenly remembered telling his best friend, Jeff the Jefforagon, that he would be able to come with them. The little yellow dragon was in dire need of nail clippers. He bit his lip at the thought of Jeff's angry look when they got home. You did not want to mess with a dragon that can breathe fire.  
  
Suddenly, his father leapt out of the fire place, looking annoyed and disheveled.   
  
"I tell you, that dragon has quite a temper!" He said as he brushed ash off of his wizard's robes. Timothy couldn't help but giggle, as well as the rest of them.  
  
"Sorry, I should of told him before we left. But he hates to be disturbed while sleeping." His mother said, giving his dad a kiss. Harry's annoyed look dissolved and he looked at them all, clapping his hands together.  
  
"Well, let's go get Timothy's stuff, shall we?"  
  
Everyone nodded earnestly and they stepped out from the large Floo Powder exclusive fireplace that stood outside the Leaky Cauldron. Harry took out his wand and tapped some bricks on the wall, and it opened to reveal a large cobblestone street. The four then walked through, Timothy watching excitedly as the opening closed behind them. With a large smile, he went to walk close to his father while Kalina took their mother's hand.  
  
Diagon Alley was busy with customers. They passed by buzzing shops and stores. Timothy was always fascinated with Diagon Alley, and wasn't the least bit surprised to see people double back or stop to gawk at them all as they went past. Most wizards and witches bowed to them, his father and mother repaying the gesture. Before he knew it, they were standing in front of Gringotts, the wizarding bank.  
  
"Mum," Kalina whined up at their mother. "Can we go look in the flower shop? I don't like it in there, the goblins scare me!"  
  
Timothy sighed as his parents exchanged looks.  
  
"I'll take Timothy inside with me, we'll meet you at… uh, let's say Ollivander's." His father finally said.  
  
Kalina practically dragged their mother down the steps and down back the alley. Timothy looked up at his father and they exchanged smiles.  
  
"More time for the fun stuff, eh?" His father whispered mischievously. Timothy beamed as his father took his hand and they went inside, the goblins at the doors bowing deeply as they went past. They reached the front desk and the head goblin nearly gasped to see his father.  
  
"Mr. Potter, and honor to see you today. Come for a withdrawal?" The head goblin said importantly.  
  
Timothy looked around as his father made arrangements and stared at the many goblins zipping in and out of small doors. His gaze did not break, even as his father took his hand again and they were following another goblin to one of the doors.  
  
"Are we going to ride in the cart again, dad?" He asked him as they followed the goblin through a door.  
  
"Yep, sure are." And as he said so, the leading goblin bowed and motioned for them to jump into a waiting cart. His father took his elbow and helped Timothy into the cart, then he sat down next to him. Timothy could hardly contain his happiness as the cart sped down the track and blew past vaults of various sizes, turning right and left then left and right and so one. By the time the cart jolted to a stop and his father had hopped out, Timothy nearly fell out himself, running to stand behind him.  
  
"Better get some extra galleons for the school year, just in case." His father winked at him as the door to the Potter vault swung open. Timothy's eyes dazzled in the light of a overwhelmingly filled room of every magical coin. Helping his father fill a sac with some of each kind, they were soon done and back in the cart.  
  
Side by side, Timothy and his father left Gringotts and headed for Madam Malkin's for his Hogwarts robes. Everyone inside, even Madam Malkin herself was excited to see the famous pair. In no time at all, Timothy had a complete wardrobe of wizarding robes himself. Next they gathered all his school books, a cauldron and potions supplies, telescope for astronomy, and everything else on the list except his wand.  
  
"Better meet up with your mum and sister at Ollivander's, time to get your wand." His father smiled at him, only to see that Timothy's attention had been averted to the new Quidditch supply shop. Harry smiled broadly as Timothy looked up at him pleadingly.  
  
"Dad… do you think…?"  
  
His father looked over in the direction of the wand shop quickly, then looked back at Timothy, still smiling.  
  
"They can wait a bit longer, I guess."  
  
Timothy let out a whoop of joy, and his father opened the door to the shop, allowing him to skip through. He first ran to the wall that held on display the latest in brooms. In the number one spot was the Dragonsfire 800. Aerodynamically proportioned, a personalized handle molded for it's owner, each birch twig trimmed to perfection, and capable of speeds of up to 200 miles per hour. Only the most skilled and professional flyers owned this brand of broom, but deep down Timothy knew he could handle it.  
  
"Hey dad, check this out!" He yelled at his dad, who was talking with an eager shop owner. Timothy did not take his eyes off the Dragonsfire, but looked at it with even more longing as he felt his father's hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Emm…" He heard his father seethe with mutual delight. "I'd have to say that this broom is certainly made for those in the big leagues."  
  
Timothy reached out a hand to stroke the mahogany handle as if it were a precious gem.  
  
"I'm sure I could fly it." He sighed as if it that phrase could never come true.  
  
"Oh, I don't know about that one… but maybe this one could fit to your liking just as much." Timothy looked at his father for the first time since they entered the shop, to see that he was holding a long packaged box. Very slowly, a large smile split on his face as his father opened the end just enough to see inside.  
  
"Shh!" He put up a hand as Timothy was about to scream with joy. "Just, don't tell your mum yet. I'll tell her later. And you can't take this right away to Hogwarts, wait until your first lesson in flying… then write to me."  
  
Timothy could hardly contain himself, he jumped into his father's arms squeezing with all his might.  
  
"Oh dad! Thanks a million!"  
  
He laughed and set Timothy down, putting the long package in his arms. Timothy took it like it contained a dozen glass eggs, carefully guiding it out as they left the shop.  
  
When they reached Ollivander's, his mother had a suspicious look on her face when she saw their mutual grins. Kalina looked at Timothy closely and he smiled at her sweetly, making her giggle.  
  
"Where have you two been? We've been waiting for an eon!" His mother mostly directed at his father, while walking into the old shop.  
  
"Oh, just doing your usual father-son bonding thing." He said, running a hand through his jet-black, messy hair. He quickly took the long package from Timothy and with a sudden movement of his wand, the package disappeared. Timothy looked horrorstruck, but his father gave him a reassuring smile.  
  
"Ah!" Came a voice from the back of the shop. Kalina took their mother's hand and Timothy was pushed forward by their father. "The Potters! How extraordinary to see you all!"   
  
Timothy immediately backed into his father, feeling his strong hands comfort his shoulders as a really old and musty man came scuttling to meet them.  
  
"Harry Potter." The man with wide, unblinking eyes said with pride and distinction. "You have truly become all that your parents were and more. Most honorable to meet you again, Order of Merlin, First Class. Your talent favored my most favorite wand; holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." He turned to Timothy's mother. "And with no less praise, Renee Potter. Just as talented as beautiful, I see, always have been. If I remember right, as I always do, your wand is yew and phoenix feather, ten inches." He grinned at both of Timothy's parents. "Not a surprise for Etam Luoses, your cores are kin to each other."  
  
Timothy looked up at his father, who was smiling politely. He had a strange feeling that his dad felt the same way towards this short, odd man. Kalina was peeking out from behind their mother, and Mr. Ollivander smiled at her, making her just jut behind their mother more.  
  
"And so I have the pleasure, and honor, of serving the next generation of Potters." Timothy watched him closely as Mr. Ollivander looked directly at his father. "This would make the fourth generation to come stepping through my door, as I have served your father's parents, your own parents, yourself and your wife in a sense, and now…" He looked directly at Timothy, making him swallow dryly. "Your own son."  
  
Timothy said nothing, feeling his father squeeze his shoulder reassuringly as Mr. Ollivander searched his pockets and take out a measuring tape.  
  
"Hold out your wand arm then, young man."  
  
Hesitating a moment, and hearing his father bend down and whisper in his ear: "Your right hand.", Timothy stretched out his right arm and Mr. Ollivander went to work measuring everything imaginable on his person. Before he realized it, the tape was taking measurements on it's own as the little man went to search his plain, stocked shelves.  
  
"As you may have already guessed, my young Timothy, I remember each and every wand I've sold. It really is the wand that chooses the user, actually. And no two wands are exactly the same!" He said, climbing a ladder and taking packages off shelves.  
  
Timothy had been so caught up in the man's old and odd appearance that it wasn't until the man said so that he realized that he did know exactly what kind of wands his parents owned. He unconsciously moved closer to his father, while glancing back at his mother who was soothing a curious, yet frightful Kalina.  
  
"Here," Mr. Ollivander had suddenly popped in front of his eyes, presenting him with an open package containing a reddish colored wand. "Try this one. Mahogany and unicorn hair, eight inches, strong and pliable."  
  
Hesitating slightly, Timothy picked up the wand gingerly with his right hand and squinted, expecting something to happen. Nothing did, and before he could fully open his eyes the wand was whipped out of his hand and Mr. Ollivander stuck another into it. Before Timothy could so much as blink, that one too was taken abruptly from his grasp.  
  
"No worries, we'll find your match here somewhere." The old man said cheerily. Timothy looked up with a puzzled expression at his father, who looked as if he was trying to keep from laughing.  
  
Wand after wand, package after package, Timothy must of held every wand ever created. His father had long since went to go by his mother, with Kalina on his lap as he sat beside her. Timothy was more frustrated than ever, but the strange Mr. Ollivander looked very pleased.  
  
"Like father, like son as they say. Your father there went through very much the same process before his wand touched his fingers. Don't worry, my boy, your wand's here somewhere!" He picked up the last box on the last shelf. Everything else was piled in a corner, tried and failed wands.  
  
"Ah, here now…" He said slowly, coming to stand in front of Timothy, who looked at him with a tired and blank look. "The most unusual combination that I have in stock." He picked up a long wand, pale in color with beautiful swirls of light brown in the wood. "Eighteen inches, oak compressed with cedar ash, and a core of gryphon feathers. Powerful and strong, this is."  
  
Timothy took the wand in his hand, and instantly he felt a warm sensation in his fingers. Red and gold sparks shot out of the end, and Mr. Ollivander, as well of his parents let out a pleased applause.  
  
Taking the wand back from Timothy and placing it in it's box, Mr. Ollivander smiled.  
  
"An extraordinary wand for and extraordinary wizard, as the saying goes. Your parents have proved that much… I can say that we can expect some great things from you, young Potter."  
  
Timothy wasn't sure what to say. Kalina had ran up to him, tugging at his vest and smiling. His parents came over and fussed over him; his mother fixing his hair, only to have his father mess it up again. Mr. Ollivander came back with a neatly tied package, handed it to him, and winked.  
  
"Now, take good care of that. A well cared for wand, is a well serving wand." He smiled at Kalina who ducked behind Timothy. "And I shall be seeing you in a few years yet, eh?"   
  
"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander." His father said politely, paying him twenty galleons.   
  
"Good bye, Mr. and Mrs. Potter." The odd man said with a bow.  
  
  
The four of them decided to have ice cream and sit down outside the parlor. Timothy stared hard at his new wand for a while, as his father considered him closely.  
  
"Weird guy, huh?" He said, snapping Timothy back to earth.  
  
"Yeah, he gave me the creeps." Timothy muttered, cringing slightly as his mother looked at him scornfully. But to his relief, his father laughed.  
  
"Exactly how I felt when I met him, and I did try every wand there was before he gave me this one." He pulled out his wand, well cared for yet showing it's age.  
  
"I missed it with my Godson, and now I've missed it with my great-Godson! No matter how old I'll get, I'll always be late for everything!"  
  
Timothy whipped around to see his Great-uncle Us, dressed in his auror's robes. His mop of gray hair framed an old, yet cheery face.  
  
"Sirius!" Timothy's father shouted, jumping up to hug him.  
  
"Great-uncle Us!" Both Timothy and Kalina cried.  
  
"Hey there!" He said, ruffling his black hair and smiling. "Sorry I missed out on the weirdo, amazing that guy is still around." Kalina leapt into his arms, strangling his neck with a big hug. "Hey, sweetie… careful now, I may be squishy but I still need to breathe!" Timothy simply looked up at him with admiration, as Great-uncle Us greeted his mother with a gentle kiss on the cheek.  
  
Timothy's father had on a flat expression, looking seriously at Timothy's beloved great-uncle.  
  
"There's nothing wrong in the Circle, is there, Sirius?" He asked. Shaking his head quickly and sitting down with Kalina on his lap, Great-uncle Us smiled.  
  
"You worry too much, Harry. No, there's nothing wrong. I'm just here to spend time with my Godson and his family, is that alright?"  
  
Timothy grinned at his father, who was sitting back in his chair with relief. His mother was grinning as if she knew all along.  
  
"Why would there be anything wrong, sweetheart? You know as well as I do that the tabs have been quiet for some time now."  
  
"You're right, Renee. I'm just not used to having Padfoot here pop out of nowhere without something bad happening."  
  
"Of course I'm right." Timothy's mother laughed as she put on a mocking, serious look at his father. He looked to his great-uncle who was staring at his father sternly.  
  
"It's called a 'surprise', Mr. Harry Potter. Hello!" He turned and grinned at Timothy, who began to tap the table eagerly, knowing that something fun was always bound to happen with his great-uncle.  
  
"Anyway," He replied, patting Kalina contently on her long dark brown hair. "Time for me and Timothy here to go."  
  
"Go where?" Everyone asked in union, but Timothy jumped out of his seat in excitement. Kalina looked shocked and hurt.  
  
He looked down at her and smiled kindly.  
  
"You and me, little one, will do something later. Right now, me and your brother are going to do some male bonding."  
  
Timothy could hardly contain himself, looking excitedly at his parents. His father looked at his great-uncle with amused suspicion, while his mother looked at him with the same look, without the amusement.   
  
"Can I go, dad? Mum?" He asked pleadingly.  
  
"Of course," His father replied, still looking at Great-uncle Us. His mother nodded, but showed signs of holding back objections.  
  
Timothy leapt out of his chair, stuffing the rest of his ice cream in his mouth, and grabbed Great-uncle Us's hand. Laughing, and handing a disappointed Kalina over to their father, Great-uncle Us allowed Timothy to steer him further down Diagon Alley and away from the ice cream parlor.  
  
"What are we going to do?" Timothy asked excitedly, looking around.  
  
"Well, I figured I'd get you a going-away present. Something that you could have good use of at Hogwarts." His great-uncle replied, taking over the steering and leading Timothy down the alley of shops.  
  
"Really?" He asked breathlessly with excitement. "What is it?"  
  
"Well, you know your parent's owls are much too old to make long trips now, and their own fledgling makes the usual rounds for them these days… I figured that, well, Timothy Potter should have his own owl. Like your father did, and your father's father did at Hogwarts."  
  
"Wow!" Timothy shouted, but he frowned slightly. "But dad said that I could use Albus for school already."  
  
Great-uncle Us waved his hand and smiled.  
  
"They need Albus since Hedwig and Keto can't make runs as quick as they used to; and they need an owl that can get messages out quickly, being aurors."  
  
Timothy could hardly contain his joy.  
  
"Thanks, Great-uncle Us! Won't Kalina be jealous to know that I'm getting my own owl!"  
  
His great-uncle cringed slightly.  
  
"Well, just remind your little sister that when it's her time to go to Hogwarts, she'll get an owl herself."  
  
They entered "Talons, Claws, and Paws"; Timothy had never seen so many animals in his life. The walls were stacked high with cages, holding all types of owls. Tanks filled with scampering mice and rats filled the middle of walkways. Large compartments filled with carpet-covered furniture held cats of all sizes and colors. Fixing his glasses and leading the way with his great-uncle in tow, Timothy peered at each creature with excited wonder.  
  
A tall, middle-aged witch came to greet him behind spectacles that reflected what little light that was inside the shop, hiding her eyes.  
  
"May I help…" But she stopped in mid-sentence when she got a good look at Timothy, who realized what she just realized and sighed. "My! If I didn't know any better, I'd say I was in the presence of a miniature Harry Potter! Why, bless my soul it's Mr. Timothy Potter!" She grabbed his hand before he could blink. To his relief, his great-uncle interjected himself.  
  
"Hello, ma'am. My great-Godson here is looking for an owl to suit him."  
  
She looked up at Timothy and gave his great-uncle a respectable nod.  
  
"Mr. Black, yes, I've heard of you. An honor to meet you as well." Although her tone was not as enthusiastic as it was when she addressed Timothy. "I'm Emily Bradshaw, and I believe I can help Mr. Potter here find his owl."  
  
Closely followed by Great-uncle Us, Ms. Bradshaw introduced Timothy to nearly every bird in the shop. Each were fascinating, but they didn't take to him. Some owls were too big, some too small, others were too noisy, and some did not pay any attention to him at all.   
  
After a while, Ms. Bradshaw trying desperately to find something that would work with him, Timothy looked around almost disappointedly when he noticed a ruffle of dark gray in a corner.  
  
"What about that one, Ms. Bradshaw?" He tapped lightly up on her shoulder. She turned and he pointed to the cage he was approaching. Tucked in that corner, almost as if it were not meant to be seen, was a cage that held a stunningly handsome gray owl. It was large, but not as big as others had been, with real dark amber eyes that stared widely at Timothy. It's feathers were the darkest gray he had ever seen, dark as stone.  
  
"Oh, I wouldn't consider this one, Mr. Potter." Ms. Bradshaw was quick to dismiss this particular owl. "He has not taken real well with customers."  
  
Timothy didn't budge as the saleswoman tried to distract him with a smaller brown owl in a near by cage. He stared intently at the gray owl in front of him, and it stared right back, almost as interested.  
  
"Why not?" He asked, his great-uncle coming closer for a better look.  
  
Ms. Bradshaw had a bland, professional expression on her face as she turned to address him.  
  
"This is a rare example of a great gray owl, usually they have specks of white in their plumage, but this one is simply a dark gray, almost black. He was shipped here from North America months ago, and he has bitten everyone who's tried to touch him since. Myself included," She inspected a red finger. "I don't think he's the right one for you, Mr. Potter."  
  
The owl let out a long hoot, and Timothy smiled as it scuttled back and forth on the small, feeble branch that it was perched upon in the cage.  
  
"I would say this owl doesn't agree with you, Ms. Bradshaw." His great-uncle said to her thoughtfully, staring at both Timothy and the owl.  
  
"Can I see him?" Timothy asked her.  
  
"I don't know…" She trailed.  
  
"Please?" He persisted, the owl looking back at him with it's deep amber eyes.  
  
"Alright," She sighed, taking out a key and opening the cage. "Be careful though."  
  
Timothy held out his hand, trying to make it as unimposing as possible, and to his surprise and delight, the great gray owl hopped onto his wrist with great care. Not a scratch was etched on his skin, and Timothy took his other hand to stroke it's dark feathers. The owl hooted contently, leaning into his palm as he scratched it's head. Timothy turned and smiled broadly at his great-uncle, who returned the expression. Ms. Bradshaw was astonished.  
  
"Well, I'll say! I've never seen this owl behave this way with anyone before!"  
  
"Can I have this owl?" Timothy asked his Great-uncle Us.  
  
"I think you've made a sale, Ms. Bradshaw."  
  
  
When Timothy and his great-uncle stepped out of the shop, himself holding the cage containing his new great gray owl, he felt lighter than air.  
  
"Boy, will mum and dad be surprised to see him!" He said happily.  
  
"Just be sure to keep that dragon of yours away from him," His great-uncle whispered down to him. "I'm not sure how a new and young owl will react to his antics."  
  
"Don't worry," Timothy reassured him. "I'll keep Windstone in my room and I'll tell Jeff to stay out."  
  
"Won't he bet upset… hey, wait a minute… Windstone?" His great-uncle did a double take as they began to walk back to the ice cream parlor.  
  
"Yeah," Timothy said, staring back into his new owl's deep amber eyes. "Wind for the air blowing over his wings, and stone for the intense color of his feathers."  
  
"Nicely thought, Timothy." Great-uncle Us put his arm around him. "Fits him to a 'T'."  
  
A/N: So, what'dja think huh? Going OK? Like I said, no hint of plot yet until about chapter 3... I only have a faint idea about what it is and I'm taking a new approach to figuring it out. Trying to do this and LOtFP at the same time is challenging, not to mention I have a swarm of books that I'm reading as well. Right now, I'm reading Lackey's "OwlSight"... awesome book trilogy there! And in waiting is "A Swiftly Tilting Planet" by the infamous L'Engle. Awesome series too! Hmm, not to mention I have a whole Christmas list of books I need to make for my mom that I'll have a hard time keeping myself from getting them beforehand! Oh well... be that cool reader that you are and review please! Thanks you ever so mucho! 'Yall are the greatest you know! ::Grins::  
~OrcaPotter 


	2. The Journey To Hogwarts

A/N: Ok, ::takes in a very deep breath and stares at screen:: here's the deal.  
AHHHH! School! School! Oh, the woes of having school! ::screams and bangs head on desk:: I'm sorry if the first chapter disappointed you, blame school... I really wanted to get something up, so I typed that and posted. I guess it was necessary, though. ::calms down:: Sorry, but I promise some INTERESTING things happen in this chapter... towards the end, so pay attention.  
Uhh, now, I'm working on this AND LOtFP. So, now I'll be working on chapter 3 of that story. As result, you won't see chapter 4 of this for a while... it depends. National Art Honors Society has me painting stupid ADS on the baseball field WALL after school in the HOT SUN for THREE HOURS! So, that takes up precious WRITING TIME! You may blame that too. Let's not forget the one word that makes me cringe.  
Homecoming.  
I won't ellaborate on that, other than that it's next week.  
::sighs:: I really do hope that you like this chapter, please tell me by leaving a review. All of you are ever so peachy for doing so, luvs yeh all!  
I'll stop blabbering now and let you read. ::moves out of the way for you to read::  
DISCLAIMER: See Orca. See Orca type. See HP book. See JK's name. See Orca disclaim rights to the Potter name and affiliates. See Orca claim Timothy and all the other people that she made up. See Orca slap those who try to sue her.  
  
  
Chapter Two: The Journey to Hogwarts  
  
  
Time seemed to speed up so fast to Timothy that the night before he was to ride the Hogwarts Express came before he knew it. He had spent the last few weeks of the summer listening to stories about Hogwarts from everyone he knew that went there. While each story was fascinating, especially the ones his great-uncle would tell about his grandfather's adventures in the great castle, Timothy found that the most intriguing and exciting stories came from his parents. His father had been telling him all about what had happened to him at Hogwarts for years, and Timothy knew every detail by heart. He would stare up at his father's scar as he would sit on his bed and explain about the mysterious Mirror of Erised and what happened in the Chamber of Secrets. Timothy would dream about all those things, but when he would tell his father he would only sigh and say that all those things are no longer there, lost in the fire with the original castle. He would say that he would have his own adventures; the only thing that would be the same as before would be the layout of the castle. Up until then, Timothy couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts, but now as he was getting ready for bed for the last time in his own room, butterflies began to swarm his stomach.  
  
"Can't see why you just could take me, and not that feather brain!" Muttered Jeff, the Jefforagon, who was sitting on the edge of Timothy's bed, eyeing the dark gray owl that was asleep in it's cage on Timothy's dresser. The little yellow dragon had been one of Timothy's closest companions since they met, when he was five years old. Jeff had helped his mother through a great ordeal she had to go through, in order to defeat the evil wizard known as Voldemort. Now he was a part of the family, and the wise-cracking dragon had always been there for Timothy.  
  
"You know that dragons are not allowed in, or even near the castle!" Timothy told him for the one hundredth time. However, it hurt every time he said it, for he was going to miss Jeff more than he thought Jeff knew.  
  
Jeff eyed him smugly, but the look didn't last. He was soon shaking his head sadly.  
  
"I know, I know… it's just, well… who's gonna be there for you, huh? I don't think that over-grown canary there is gonna be much help!"  
  
Timothy couldn't help but to giggle; Jeff did not get off to a good start with his new owl, Windstone. Apparently, Windstone is exceedingly picky, and is only the most affectionate for Timothy and no one else. While he acts polite to his parents, and even his little sister, the owl wants nothing to do with Jeff.  
  
"Windstone's gonna deliver mail and stuff… it would be too hard for you to do that." Timothy pointed out. Jeff's mouth hung open to counter him, but he was a loss for words. Timothy laughed again and turned around to look back at his packed trunk. He sighed loudly, and sat down heavily on his bed. Looking up, he stared at the starry ceiling which the mural had changed to when the sun went down. A shooting star whizzed by, and the swirls of Jupiter blended silently as it turned magically.  
  
The butterflies returned, as they had been for the past few days. Would he fit in at Hogwarts? Sure, his parents were world-famous and top graduates from there, but would he? Would everyone act the same way towards him there as they do on the streets? Following him where ever he would go, bugging him for autographs, squealing as he would come into sight? He turned on his stomach and stroked his worn-out, stuffed owl.  
  
Would he make friends that would like him for who he really is, and not for his name?  
  
Jeff came and walked casually on top of Timothy's back, like he would usually do when he knew that he was troubled. He sat down and twirled his long, purple tentacle tipped tail around Timothy's head, his own elongated snout towards Timothy's feet, wearing a considering expression. Timothy looked over and smiled a little, feeling a tug at his heart, for he missed his dragon friend already.  
  
"You may be famous, bright eyes, but only for your name. What you need to do when you get to that school is let everyone see you for who you really are, and not as the shadow of your parent's achievements. You must make your own." Jeff said with a deep, wise voice that he rarely spoke with, but when he did you knew he was serious.  
  
Timothy grimaced and closed his eyes; Jeff knew what he had been thinking for a long time. He shook his head.  
  
"How, Jeff? Everyone's gonna expect me to be exactly like mum and dad, but how could I possibly be able to do what my parents did?"  
  
Jeff began to tap Timothy's head with his tail to the point where he got annoyed and swatted at it.  
  
"Oh, don't be silly. You'll have your own adventures there, what your parents did is in the past, and won't be able to be repeated again… not by anyone, not even themselves. Now it's your turn!"  
  
Timothy was about to argue, twisting his body to face Jeff, when there was a soft knock at the door.  
  
"Bedtime, sweetheart." It was his mother, her long brown hair highlighted by the candle in the hallway. "You're gonna have a long day tomorrow, so you need your rest."  
  
With a loud sigh, Timothy faced the wall next to his bed quickly, rubbing his messy black hair absentmindedly.  
  
"Say goodnight, Jeff." His mother said to the yellow dragon, who gave a puff of smoke and sauntered off of Timothy's back.  
  
"Goodnight, Jeff." He pouted, jumping to the ground. Timothy tried to stifle a giggle, always loving it when he said that. However, he frowned slowly as he turned around to see his friend beginning to leave his room.  
  
"'Night, Jeff. I'll see you tomorrow, won't I? Before I go?"  
  
Jeff turned and gave him his toothy grin.  
  
"You think I'd let you go off without my lecture? I think not! Better prepare for it, I plan to snap at your heels before you walk out that door tomorrow morning!"  
  
"Oh, boy." Both Timothy and his mother said in union. Jeff left and Timothy's gaze met his mother's. Her big blue eyes were warm and kind in the low light of his room.  
  
"So, all ready and set to go?" She asked him, pulling back the covers of his bed. He didn't answer, just nodded solemnly as he glanced back at his packed trunk. A soft coo from his dresser reminded him of his owl, asleep and dreaming in his cage. His mother finished with the sheets and was looking at Timothy curiously.  
  
"Alright, honey? Nervous?"  
  
Again, Timothy didn't answer, but nodded his head so slightly that his mother leaned in closer to get a better look at his eyes. He tried to hide his fear, but his mother had a sixth sense at knowing what he was feeling. She put on a sad smile and brought him into her arms, stroking his black hair gently.  
  
"Don't worry, Timothy. It's normal to feel this way, and I know you feel even worse… knowing who you are and all." She brought his chin up to look into his eyes, and he found himself staring into hers, finding comfort there. "But don't let it get to your head. You are Timothy, and don't let people's expectations of you change who you really are inside."  
  
"Everything alright?"  
  
Timothy drew back a little to see his father coming into the room, wearing a smile but showing concern in his green eyes behind his black glasses. His hair was just as wild as Timothy's, and he could partially see the lightning bolt shaped scar that he had had since he was a baby.  
  
He came over to them and drew them all into his own embrace.  
  
"Well, I knew tomorrow had to come, but I didn't know it would come so soon." He muttered.  
  
Silence ensued, the three of them holding each other in the dim light of Timothy's bedroom, the painted magical ceiling above moving about it's business. Kalina had already gone to bed, and Timothy felt jealous of her, not for the first time. She would stay with their parents, and Timothy wouldn't see them at all until Christmas. He had never been away from his family for that long.  
  
"Come now," His mother finally said, breaking them apart and leading Timothy's arm to his bed. "Bedtime."  
  
Timothy climbed under the sheets and reluctantly laid his head on the pillow. His parents smiled down at him, exactly the same way they did nearly every night of his life. He felt tears threatening to push through his eyes, but he fought them.  
  
"Don't worry, you'll be having so much fun at Hogwarts that you'll forget about being homesick. We'll be together for Christmas and Easter, then there's summer vacation." His mother said to him soothingly, brushing away his bangs. Her hand caught his eye in the light, and he could see the old burn scar on her palm. A few years ago, she told him how she had gotten it, how when she was being held captive by Voldemort that her wand was hexed to burn to the touch if she tried to retrieve it. It was a story he liked to hear, for in the end his father had come to save her life.  
  
She kissed his forehead gently, with a small smile. Timothy smiled back weakly, then looked to his father. He was looking at his mother and she nodded, leaving the room.  
  
"I'll see you in the morning, Timothy. Love you."  
  
"Love you too, mum… g'night." He replied. She left the door open a crack as his father blew out the candles on the walls with his wand. Then he looked back at Timothy and sat beside him in bed.  
  
"Dad?" Timothy asked, pulling out his stuffed owls from the depths of his sheets. "How did you feel, the night before you first went to Hogwarts."  
  
His father sighed deeply, looking away for a moment. To Timothy, he seemed so powerful and tall, the only other person he admired just as much was his mother. His black, messy hair seemed even darker in the absence of light, and the light that did trickle in from the hallway reflected off his round glasses.  
  
"I've told you how it was like for me to grow up; it wasn't fun. For my entire life until then, I thought of myself as alone and worth nothing. When I found out about who my parents really were, and that I was a wizard, well… I couldn't wait to get out of there! When I was were you are now, there was nothing I wanted more than to be off to that mysterious castle." He looked directly at Timothy, with a sad smile.  
  
"However, you, Timothy, have grown up in a loving family who cares for you very much. I never had that. So, I would assume that what you're feeling now would be that of great apprehension and nervousness. But like your mother said, that's normal. It'll be alright, trust me."  
  
Timothy nodded, closing his eyes as his father ruffled his hair. He then patted his shoulder and Timothy threw his arms around him, and they stayed in a hug for several minutes before his father kissed him goodnight as well and began to leave. He watched intently as he saw the last of his great father, closing the door to let the only light shine from the painted stars and planets on the ceiling. A soft contented hoot came from Windstone, and Timothy tried to push his worries away, and fell asleep.  
  
  
Everything the next morning was a blur, up until he found himself standing beside his parents at the newly renovated King's Cross train station in London. Kalina looked around curiously as their mother led them past groups of muggles, their father pushing Timothy's trunk and things along with a cart. People stared as they went past, however, not with awe and surprise as they usually got. Timothy and Kalina were nearly the only ones wearing anything close to muggle clothes. Their parents were wearing their wizarding robes, yet they paid no attention to any of looks as the four of them came up to a wall separating platforms 9 and 10.  
  
"Where's platform 9 and 3/4?" Timothy asked, looking at his parents with puzzlement.  
  
His father grinned, almost mischievously.  
  
"Watch me, I'll go first."  
  
Timothy stared suspiciously as his father steadied the cart and began a brisk walk towards the wall. It did not look like he was going to walk around it, it looked like he was going to hit it! Timothy's mouth gaped open and he stepped forward to lunge at his father and warn him to stop. But his mother held him back with a smile and whispered,  
  
"Watch."   
  
Kalina looked just as nervous, and the two siblings let out a loud gasp when their father simply disappeared through the wall!  
  
"What the…?"  
  
"How did daddy…?"  
  
"You next, Timothy." Their mother said cheerfully, giving him a little nudge in the back. He looked back and up at her with part confusion, part skepticism.  
  
"Just do what your dad did, honey. Don't be afraid, otherwise you will hit the wall." She reassured him.  
  
Slowly looking away from her and taking a long swallow, Timothy started to walk towards the wall. There were no muggles around, just the barrier in front of him. He made another look back at his mother and sister, who was staring at him with an astonished face. His mother smiled and nodded for him to go on, and before he knew it… he was no longer looking at his mother and sister, he was looking at a solid wall.  
  
"Hey, see… you made it!"  
  
Timothy turned to see the smiling face of his father, messy black hair and all. His trunk and Windstone stood off to the side, and he heard a loud train whistle go off. Jaw dropping once again, Timothy saw a large, scarlet colored train. One the side were golden letters bearing "Hogwarts Express". Children his age and older were waving goodbye out of windows, others were loading trunks into compartments. Hoots, chirps, and loud meows sounded from every direction as magical families darted here and there to get to where they needed to go.  
  
"Wow!" Timothy shouted as his father put a hand on his shoulder. Suddenly, his mother and sister appeared at his side. Kalina looked ecstatic, her eyes wide and her long dark brown hair billowing with gusts of wind that blew through the station.  
  
"Oh, I want to go too! Mum! I want to go with Timothy!"  
  
Both their parents laughed, shaking their heads.   
  
"We better move out of the way before someone walks into us." His father said, taking Timothy by the shoulder and walking out from the shadows. The cart with his trunk and Windstone magically began to follow them.  
  
It was then that loud gasps, stares, and shouts of awe rang out as Timothy and his family began to walk down by the train.  
  
"Could it be?"  
  
"Yes, it is!"  
  
"The Potters!"  
  
"Little Timothy must be starting this year."  
  
"Oh, I can't believe it! Harry and Renee Potter!"  
  
"I feel flush!"  
  
Timothy sighed, leaning closer to his father and looked up at him. Behind his round black glasses, same as Timothy's, his father's green eyes were set and determined to ignore the familiar praise.  
  
"This looks like a good spot," His father suddenly stopped in front of one compartment on the train that was somewhat out of the way. "This is where your Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione, mum, and I sat. I sat here on my first trip, and so shall you."  
  
Timothy stared up at the window, which was empty of people. At least he wouldn't start out being gawked at for the whole trip to Hogwarts. With a wave of his wand, his father sent his trunk and Windstone into the compartment. When it was settled, his father turned to face him and the rest of the family.  
  
"Well, now… I think you should get going. Better settle in, it's a long ride to Hogwarts." He said dryly, wringing his wand in his hands. Timothy looked at his mother, who was absentmindedly playing with Kalina's hair. His sister looked hopelessly jealous, eyeing her brother.  
  
His father cleared his throat loudly, then suddenly pulled Timothy to the side. He knelt down to his eye level, and the two of them stared.  
  
"I have something for you," His father whispered. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a very, very old looking piece of parchment. It was completely blank, and yet his father stared at it with nearly a tear in his eye. "This belonged to your grandfather, he and his friends made this when he went to Hogwarts. It was passed down to me, and now I pass it on to you."  
  
Taking the worn parchment in his hand, Timothy stared at it blankly.  
  
"It's just a plain piece of parchment, dad, what is it?"  
  
"Harry, what are you doing? He needs to get on the train now!" His mother called over their shoulders.  
  
"Just one minute, Renee!" He called back. Looking back at Timothy, there was a large, mischievous grin on his face. Timothy couldn't help but to grin back.  
  
"What does it do, dad?" He asked eagerly.  
  
"When you get to Hogwarts, and when you're alone, mind you… take your wand and tap the parchment and say 'I solemnly swear, I am up to no good'." He looked over Timothy's shoulder quickly, and hastily added: "To clear it, tap it again and say 'mischief managed'."  
  
"What is it?" Timothy looked at the parchment with newfound curiosity.  
  
"You'll see!" His father winked, then stood up, pulling Timothy back towards the train. Kalina pulled away from their mother and ran to their father.  
  
"What did you two do?" She asked as he picked her up.  
  
"Yes, Harry, what did you do?" Their mother had a suspicious look on her face, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. Timothy was still staring at the blank parchment when his mother pulled him into a ferocious hug, nearly knocking the wind out of him.  
  
"You be good now. I don't know what your father talked to you about, but keep your head and stay out of trouble." She said sternly, fixing his hair as she allowed himself to pull away. He fixed his glasses and looked at Kalina. She took in a big breath and held it, then when their eyes locked she burst into tears and leapt into his arms, making his own eyes go wide.  
  
"I want to go with you!" She wailed. Timothy looked up at their mother and while smiling, she pulled her back.  
  
"Oh, don't cry, Kalina! I'll be sending you and mum and dad letters with Windstone… then I'll see you at Christmas!" He said as calmly as he could, fighting his fear of leaving.  
  
The train whistle blew loudly twice, and people began to run onto the train. Timothy ran his hand through his hair nervously.  
  
"Time to go, Timothy. Up you go." His father needlessly picked him up and placed him on the stairs leading inside the compartment. They looked at each other and fell into one last, long hug. Then the whistle blew again, and the train began to lurch into life. With a weak wave, Timothy climbed inside and sat next to the window. Both his parents, and a tearing Kalina were waving to him… and he could see his parents crying too. To see them that way, he couldn't help but let a tear slip as well, as the train began to move. He suddenly, for the first time in his life, felt completely alone. His head fell against the window, and the train left the station, his family fading out of view.  
  
"Excuse me, mind if I sit in here with you?" Said a voice.  
  
Timothy turned to see a boy his age and height, with shaggy black hair and gray eyes. The boy had his trunk dragging behind him in the doorway, and he suddenly dropped it as their eyes locked.  
  
"It's you! Timothy Potter!"  
  
Timothy stopped himself from rolling his eyes, instead giving a slight nod and a small: "Yes."  
  
The boy hastily dragged his trunk fully inside and stowed it away, quickly sitting down close to Timothy and staring at him happily, his gray eyes bright.  
  
"Remember me? From a few years ago, back at Hogwarts when it was officially declared open? It's me! Darian Hall!"  
  
Timothy studied his face for a moment, and then the memory came back to him. His face split into just as happy a smile.  
  
"Oh, yes! We went around the castle together, I remember now!"  
  
They both erupted into spirited giggles as they exchanged the usual conversation. How they'd been, what they'd done; stuff like that. Timothy's apprehension was forgotten as they chatted for up to an hour.  
  
"My mom left for Hogwarts a week ago," Darian said casually. "Can't wait to see her again."  
  
Timothy nodded, trying not to dwell on his own mother. He wouldn't see her at all until Christmas.  
  
"So!" Darian cheered. "What house do you think you'll be in?"  
  
"My parents were in Gryffindor. Everyone thinks I'll be in it, but… I'm not too sure." Timothy mumbled, looking away. Darian looked at him intently.  
  
"Why aren't you sure? Of course you'd be in Gryffindor!"  
  
Timothy shrugged and didn't answer. For as long as he'd known about the Hogwarts houses and what they stood for, knowing that his parents fit perfectly into the Gryffindor house, he was sure he'd be sorted there as well. However, lately, he hadn't been feeling all that brave… and wasn't so sure any more as he had when he was five years old.  
  
"I think I would fit into Ravenclaw, my dad was a Hufflepuff though. I don't think I'd be sorted there, both my parents have told me that I don't listen to them half the time." Darian grinned. "That I agree with. Or even Gryffindor! That would cool to be in the same house as you!"  
  
Timothy looked back at him and smiled. That thought made him feel better, but he still had doubts. He was about to voice this, when a loud crash from outside their compartment made both their heads snap to attention.  
  
"Hah! Get out, skinny!"  
  
"Yeah!"  
  
Timothy and Darian looked at each other with puzzled looks. With a concern look in his eyes, Timothy stood up and went to the compartment door. He opened it and the laughter from other compartments became loud and clear. Sticking his head out further with Darian coming to look over his shoulder, Timothy looked up and down the walkway, seeing other people looking out too. He ignored their turned attention to him, and focused on a tall figure lumbering towards his compartment.  
  
"Who's that?" Darian whispered in Timothy's ear. He just shrugged as the figure, a tall and skinny boy, came clearer into view. His face was red with embarrassment, sweat making long and shaggy brown hair stick to his forehead. People snickered and pointed as he walked past, and Timothy couldn't help but to feel sorry. He looked over his shoulder at Darian, who was wearing a similar expression.  
  
"Let's ask him to sit with us, he can't be that bad." He whispered.  
  
Timothy nodded and turned to the boy, who was just about to reach them, his face staring at the floor as he drug his trunk behind him.  
  
"Hey!" Timothy called out as friendly as he could. The boy didn't look up, but continued his way down the walkway. He nearly came next to them before Timothy tried again. "Hello, need a place to sit?"  
  
The boy slowly looked upward, red hazel eyes tired and shy. He straightened up more, and Timothy gulped, as this boy's height was at least a handful of inches higher than both him and Darian.  
  
"You're asking me to… sit with you?" The boy asked quietly, astonished.  
  
Both Timothy and Darian nodded. Darian inched out to grab the boy's trunk. Timothy smiled warily and motioned for the boy to come in. With an uncertain look, and a glance back at where he came from where people were staring incredulously, the boy obliged. Ignoring the looks he was getting, Timothy helped Darian with the trunk and closed the door behind them. The boy stared at them with puzzlement and relief as they stowed it away with their own. When they sat down across from them, there was an awkward silence. The boy, even sitting, was taller than the two of them… and he was deathly skinny. His arms and legs were long and gangly, a thin face with his shaggy pale-brown hair. The long sleeved shirt he wore was old looking, and it swam around him; his blue jeans were tattered in some places and just as worn. Timothy tried not to stare, and his gaze met Darian's as they both were trying to avoid the same thing… adding to this boy's unfortunate situation.  
  
"Er…" Timothy ran a hand through his black hair, fiddling with his glasses as well. "My name's Timothy Potter, and this is Darian Hall. What's yours?"  
  
The boy shifted in his seat, looking away and back again nervously.  
  
"John. John Stanton." He nearly whispered, his voice small for such a tall boy.  
  
"Well, John… why was everyone laughing at you?" Timothy asked as politely and nonchalantly as he could. Darian nodded.  
  
"Yeah, why'd you have to move?"  
  
John flushed deeply and stared back down at his feet, his large hands wringing each other tightly. He shrugged after a moment, but Timothy and Darian kept looking at him intently for an answer.  
  
"If I told you, you'd laugh too." He whispered simply.  
  
Timothy immediately shook his head.  
  
"No I wouldn't." Darian shook his head.  
  
John suddenly laughed silently, rocking back to lean against the bench. He shook his own head, his hair flinging into his eyes, which he brushed away.  
  
"Everyone makes fun of me, why wouldn't you? And you," He looked directly at Timothy. "You're mum and dad are Harry and Renee Potter, you're famous… why would you care?"  
  
Darian looked at Timothy, who had blushed himself. Timothy's eyes narrowed behind his glasses at John.  
  
"Just because I'm famous doesn't mean I don't care about things. I don't like to be picked on just as much as anyone else."  
  
"Who would make fun of you? You're a Potter, everyone admires you and your parents. Me? I'm taller than anyone else my age, skinny, weak… and… shy. More than one reason to pick on me."  
  
Before Timothy could say anything, Darian spoke up.  
  
"So what? I could care less what you look like, as long as you're a good person. Anyone who makes fun of anyone for just what they look like, is stupid! I don't consider myself like that, and I really don't think Timothy is either."  
  
Both John and Timothy stared at him. Darian put on a wise look, but couldn't help but blush. Then, just as suddenly, all three of them began to laugh.  
  
"Sorry." Darian said, sheepishly scratching his head.  
  
John looked more at ease.  
  
"So, you really don't care about how I look and all?" His small voice did not fit him, but it was more confident.  
  
"Don't be silly," Timothy continued to laugh. "I could care less about that."  
  
"Funny, I thought that someone of your representation would, Timothy Potter."  
  
The laughter stopped as abruptly as it had started. All three of them realized that the compartment door was open, and standing in the doorway was a girl. She stood tall, slender and healthy looking, with short blonde hair and cream colored skin. Her arms were crossed and her expression wore a cocky sneer.  
  
Timothy immediately did not like this girl.  
  
"Who are you?" Timothy asked.  
  
The girl opened her sly mouth to answer, when she suddenly stumbled forward. Her eyes narrowed in outrage as she turned around to reveal a boy, with spiky blonde hair and pale skin, cowering before her.  
  
"Sean! You idiot! Watch what you're doing!" She screeched, her voice so high in pitch that Timothy cringed at the noise.  
  
The boy that was Sean winced and nodded. He was just as tall as she was, and yet he cowered before her as if she were ten feet taller. Timothy noticed that Darian was trying to keep himself from laughing, and John looked slightly afraid.   
  
"Now then, what were we… oh yes! That's right. My name is Carla Haughton. The blundering idiot behind me is my brother, Sean." She pointed behind her, Sean doing and saying nothing but looking at his sister with tense apprehension.  
  
"Are both of you… first years?" Darian asked cautiously.  
  
Carla narrowed her blue eyes, which were not like Timothy's at all, but ice cold and menacing.  
  
"Yes," She said with her nose in the air and a cold sneer. "I am. Oh, yes, and my brother too." Carla's mouth upturned into a fake smile. "So looking forward to Hogwarts, we are. I hear it's built exactly like the old one, before it was burnt down by that evil wizard. What was his name? Oh, yes… Voldemort."  
  
Timothy, and he could sense everyone else with him, took a nervous swallow at the mention of the name.  
  
"Of course, our famous Mr. Potter's parents saved us all and killed the guy! So that we could all be here this day… going to school." Carla's narrowed gaze fell on top of Timothy, and he suddenly felt himself grow angry.  
  
"That's right. My parents did kill him, and that was a long while ago. So, can we just move on?" He said coolly, eyeing Carla and her brother.  
  
"Yeah, like yourselves for instance." Darian added; Timothy turned to look at him, as well as John, with amazement at his boldness towards someone who was obviously trouble.  
  
Carla huffed, and Sean let out a whine like a lost dog.  
  
"I'd watch that attitude… Mr.?"  
  
"Hall. Darian Hall, and don't you forget it!"  
  
She put on an amused grin, and put a hand on her brother's shoulder, making him jump slightly.  
  
"Darian Hall. Heh, don't you worry, I won't forget you. Or your famous friend." She looked over at John for the first time and let out a snicker. "And look! It's our friend, Mr. Stanton, from further up the train! Why, I believe you've finally found your niche with these fools, John."  
  
John turned beet red and sulked in his chair. Both Timothy and Darian stood up, anger surging through them.  
  
"Watch it Carla, he's with us." Timothy said, more bravely then he felt.  
  
Carla laughed, Sean staring at her. She paused momentarily with a furious look at him, and then he joined her in laughing with uncertainty.   
  
"Well, it's obvious now!" She said between giggles. "You all go together perfectly!"  
  
Sean was eyeing something behind her nervously in the hallway, and persisted to tap her shoulder. Her laughter died and Carla's face contorted with exasperation.  
  
"What is it, Sean!" She leered at him.  
  
"D'uh, someone's comm'n." He said blankly.  
  
"What?" She snapped, leaning further in the hallway for a better look. Her expression fell and she sighed angrily. "Figures, it's that Prefect with the funny name again."  
  
Timothy, Darian, and John exchanged glances, still feeling hot with anger towards this rather annoying girl.  
  
Carla turned back at them and pointed with a long, slender finger.  
  
"I'll be seeing you around, boys. C'mon, Sean, let's go."  
  
She left and closed the compartment door behind her, Sean at silently at her heels. Timothy let out a sigh of relief, but the door opened up again no more than a few seconds after it had closed. A tall boy, muscular in built, with long red hair and blue-gray eyes, stood in the doorway with a powerful aura around him.  
  
"What's going on in here?" He said in a smooth, commanding voice.  
  
"Nothing." The three of them answered immediately.  
  
The boy considered each of them in turn with an intense stare. When he looked at Timothy there was jolt in his eye and he gave what looked like a painful smile.  
  
"Well, well… look, it's Timothy Potter. Nice to meet you. Your parent's are great magical people, wouldn't be here today if it weren't for them. Order of Merlin, First Class, right? Both of them? Figures, after what they've done."  
  
Timothy said nothing, relaxing a little and rolling his eyes at the usual speech given to him by first meetings with people. He stared up politely at this boy, who must have been at least a few years older than all of them.  
  
"And you are?" He nodded towards the boy.  
  
The boy's face suddenly grew dark and he narrowed his eyes. Timothy shuddered and sighed, fearing that what had happened before with the first two acquaintances would repeat itself.  
  
"I'm a Prefect; a Prefect for Gryffindor to be exact. I'm not to be crossed, even if you don't end up in my house. I know all of you are first years, I'm a sixth year." He crossed his arms. "You all may call me Smith."   
  
Timothy said nothing, while both Darian and John nodded. Without another word, Smith left the compartment, slamming the door with a bang.  
  
"Well, he obviously has issues." Darian muttered, turning back to Timothy and John.  
  
"Glad he scared Carla away, though." John said in his small voice, still looking at his feet.  
  
"I sure do hope I don't end up in the same house as her and her brother, or even Smith for that matter. He gives me the creeps." Timothy said.  
  
"I heard people talking about him," John said, looking up at Timothy, his eyes wide with intensity. "People make fun of him all the time too. It's his first name."  
  
"What's his first name?" Both Timothy and Darian asked at the same time, leaning closer to John.  
  
"It's a really odd name," John's already small voice was lowered even more, making Timothy and Darian strain to hear him. "That's why I think he was so uptight when you asked him, Timothy. Before people turned to me in the compartment I was in before, they were talking about him. There was another sixth year in there with me, as well as some third and fourth years with their first year siblings. Anyway, his first name is Taku."  
  
"Taku?" Both Timothy and Daian said in disbelief.  
  
"What kind of a name is Taku?" Darian asked, scratching his head.  
  
John shrugged.  
  
"Who knows? But that's one reason why they pick on him; having such an uncommon first name and such a common last name. He's also just how he acted… acts all tough and powerful. They say he looks for people to make trouble, and takes away a load of house points. And then he keeps to himself, reading all the time. He has no friends that I've heard of."  
  
Timothy sat back and blinked. He'd already met three people he knew would give him a hard time that year, and it didn't settle well with his already nervous apprehension.  
  
Darian sighed.  
  
"Well, one thing's for sure… we're staying out of his way, and that Carla girl too."  
  
Everyone nodded and afterwards, soon forgot about what happened and got caught up in conversations over things like Quidditch and Wizarding Cards that came in Chocolate Frogs. Time seemed to fly, for before Timothy knew it, a voice came onto the loud speaker.  
  
"Students must be dressed and prepared for arrival at Hogsmeade Station. The train will be stopping in ten minutes. Leave your belongings on the train, they will be taken up to the school separately."  
  
"Better get into our school robes," Darian muttered, reaching for his trunk. "Everyone else is dressed too."  
  
Timothy looked out the compartment door window and saw students already wearing their wizarding robes and milling around the walkway. He went to his trunk, carefully put aside a sleeping Windstone, and pulled out his robes. They each pulled them over their regular clothes, and as Timothy looked down at himself, he suddenly felt excited.  
  
I'm gonna be just like dad! Mum too! I'm at Hogwarts, and I'm gonna be just as good a wizard as they both are! He thought. But then another voice came in.  
  
Don't be stupid, how could you ever be as good as they are! They defeated the most powerful and dangerous wizard on earth, and you've done nothing! You've never even conjured a spell before, how could you possibly ever reach their level? I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't last a month at this school. Wizard indeed.  
  
"Timothy? Hello? Timothy!"  
  
Timothy snapped out of himself to stare at Darian, John at his side. Both were completely dressed in their Hogwarts robes; John's was all wrinkly and Darian's had fluff stuck to his.  
  
"Would you like to go now? The train's stopped." Darian crossed his arms.  
  
Timothy nervously ran his hand through his black hair, which felt more messy than ever before.  
  
"Yeah, I guess… yeah, let's go."  
  
He turned and opened the door, stepping a foot out when he nearly tripped a boy. Darian and John bumped into his back and yelped.  
  
"Oh, sorry!" Timothy cried, leaning over the boy. To his horror, it turned out to be Taku Smith. He was all red in the face, which rivaled that of his hair. His hand was tightly clutched around something and he held it to his chest, almost protectively.  
  
"Do watch where you step, Potter! You can injure someone with your lack of attention!" He snapped, then scrambled to his feet and was hastily off, the other students piling in after him.  
  
"What was it that he had in his hand?" Darian asked curiously as they filed into the walkway.  
  
Timothy had blushed with embarrassment after tripping Taku, but he shrugged at Darian's question and led the three of them down the train.  
  
"It's not your fault, Timothy," Darian reassured him with John nodding at his side. "It's that Taku's fault for bolting down the walkway like that, how were you to know…?"  
  
He stopped in mid-sentence for they had all stepped off the train and ran into the huge crowd of students, going in all directions. But that was not what they were all now gaping at. A huge, hairy figure towered over all of them. It was hard to take it, it being so huge. There was so much dark hair that it was hard to tell if it even had eyes. Hands the size of desks hung at it's side, and the feet matched in length. For a large creature, it wore clothing. A plain, hunter green leather vest was bound around it's torso. Billowing white pants that must have been made from boat sails, blew with the wind around it's legs.  
  
The three of them did not move a muscle, necks craned to look for any signs of facial features… if it had any. The creature was making it's way through the crowd, pointing in directions. It then stopped and saw them, and the hair parted with the wind just enough to show a very large smile.  
  
"Well now, little ones, don't just stand there! Move on with your peers, first years in the boats!"  
  
The voice did not fit this creature at all; it was light, cheery, and most of all… kind. This was just as shocking, and still they did not move. The creature laughed.  
  
"Ah, never seen a Timberlan before! Oh, you sweet dears. Mr. Potter, you and your friends will be late if you don't get in the boats. We're leaving now. Plenty of time to get aquatinted later."  
  
This creature was obviously a lady creature, and with a gentle… but large push with her hand, she got the shell-shocked threesome to get to the boats.  
  
"Dad seemed to have left that part out." Timothy muttered, as the boats they had suddenly found themselves in, lurched to move.  
  
"This is going to be great!" Darian shouted.  
  
"I hope I survive this." John muttered silently in his small voice.  
  
  
A/N: I do hope you liked this chapter better. We met a lot of new people. Plus, one real odd guy and one really odd creature gal. You'll meet even more new people in the next chapter, as well as the professors and we meet back up with Eian Dumbledore! I hope you paied attention, if you haven't noticed... I now have a better idea of the plot, and the first hints were in this chapter!   
Take note, if I haven't already mentioned.... next I'm reformatting Hatred's Prisoner so if you want, ignore the authoralerts about those. I'm off to work on chapter three of Land Of the Four Powers now, so if you're liking that... look out!  
Renee's site is turning out to be a hit, and I'm already trying to transfer it to a new free service. I'm having probs with it, but when it's done... I'll put the new link on the old, current site. For now, go to http://www.expage.com/page/theworldofreneepotter  
::points finger:: Hey! Hey, I see you, ready to click out... you need to review! ::points finger down to the form:: Go on, review... be a good reader. Thaaaaats right, good! Now, you're my new best friend. And hellos to all my best friends already who review! ::grins::  
::waves to go hit head on desk 'cause there's more school work to do before she can write::  
~OrcaPotter 


	3. The New Generation

A/N: ::looks sheepish:: Hello, remember me? LOL, boy oh boy, has it been a long time since I've posted something or what? First, it was the fact that I needed to work on my novel, then I got sick. Being an author and being sick is not a good combo... for I got struck with writer's block! The cold sucked out all my creative energy! Then, there is school. Always school. Homecoming, as well as spirit week, took up time. English4 seems to want to plague me with Macbeth homework, not to mention now I have to memorize lines from the silly thing! So, it's been about two weeks. I'm not going to ramble on further here, I'll explain more at the end of this chapter. I do hope you like this chapter, I'm quite fond of it. Please review, as usual.  
DISCLAIMER: I solemnly swear I am not J.K. Rowling. However, anyone (like Timothy)who's not original and that's mostly everyone as a matter o' fact, belongs to me.  
  
  
Chapter Three: The New Generation  
  
  
Timothy could hardly remember a time that he had ever been more fascinated. There he was, sitting in a small boat behind dozens of others, along with two new friends, on his way to the legendary school that he parents and grandparents had gone to. His eyes had never been so wide, as the boats came into view of a large, magnificent castle. He glanced over at Darian and John; Darian had a very similar expression on his face, but John looked very nervous. Timothy gave him a reassuring grin and a nudge in the shoulder, and John smiled back weakly with a nod.  
  
The boats continued into a tunnel that seemingly went under the hill that the castle was on. Covered by fresh ivy leaves, they entered into a dark docking port. The boats then came up to a cobbled sidewalk that led up to two huge oak doors. Timothy, Darian, and John clambered out of the boats and went to stand with the other first years. The lady creature, who had called herself a "Timberlan" (whatever that was), was waving them over with a smile.  
  
"Is everyone here? Alright, then? OK, be on your best behavior, 'cause we're about to go inside Hogwarts now." Her large voice echoed off the damp walls of the cave.  
  
With the full attention of everyone, she knocked twice on the huge oak doors. Not too long after, the doors opened to reveal an averaged sized woman with short, dark amber hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a long purple cloak that covered navy slacks and a velvet green vest. A golden chain hung beautifully around her neck, and she looked at them all with a welcoming smile.  
  
"Welcome to Hogwarts everyone, please come inside quietly and stay together please."  
  
She bowed slightly and led the group up through a hallway. Timothy, Darian, and John moved up through the group with interest. Kids were too awestruck and interested in the castle to notice Timothy going past, and at that moment, he wouldn't of cared if they did.  
  
They soon found themselves led to a large corridor where two more big oak doors, labeled "Great Hall", stood before them. The woman turned to the group and gave them all a reassuring grin.  
  
"My name is Professor Slimak, I am the Deputy Headmistress and charms teacher. In a moment, you will be led into the Great Hall and sorted into the house that will be your home while you are here at Hogwarts. You will sleep in your house dormitory, socialize in your house common room, have classes with others in your house, and eat at your house table as well. Your house will become your second family. There are four houses; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Each has produced some of the most famous and skilled witches and wizards in history." Her gaze briefly met Timothy's, and he blushed. She looked away and cleared her throat.  
  
"Please wait here, I will escort you in when they are ready."  
  
Professor Slimak then scooted into the Great Hall, momentarily letting out loud chattering and laughter from inside. Timothy's stomach was turning over and over with nervousness. People began to whisper amongst themselves on the process of being sorted. Darian was practically bouncing up and down with excitement and John nearly looked faint, wringing his fingers and looking around nervously.  
  
"Dad wouldn't tell me how they sort people," Timothy started, wanting to talk to keep him mind off of what was to come. "He wanted it to be a surprise."  
  
"Both my parents were Ravenclaws. They wouldn't tell me either." John whispered.  
  
"I was too excited to ever ask," Darian whispered loudly. "Mom didn't tell me about it, and dad never said anything either. He was a Hufflepuff."  
  
"Shh!" Whispered a girl with braids and blonde hair. "You'll get us into trouble before school even starts!"  
  
The three of them scowled at her, and then suddenly the doors opened. Professor Slimak hurried outside and put a finger to her mouth.  
  
"Single file, everyone! Get in a single file line. Quiet, now."  
  
Everyone shuffled to get into place. Timothy got behind the girl that had hushed them, Darian got behind him, and John got behind Darian. The line then preceded inside the Great Hall, and Timothy stared with awe at the size of the hall. The ceiling, just like his father and mother had described it, was bewitched to look just like the sky outside. It was black and dotted with stars, and his stomach lurched with momentary homesickness as he thought of his room's ceiling at home. His gaze went down to look at the now muttering crowd of the rest of the student body of Hogwarts. Four long tables were packed with older students. At the head of them all, was a long table where the professors must all sit.  
  
"This is so cool, don't you think so Timothy?" Darian whispered excitedly in his ear.  
  
"Yeah!" Timothy whispered back.  
  
"Shh!" Scolded the girl in front of him. He made a face before they stopped suddenly to be facing the long professor's table. The hall quieted to a hum, as Professor Slimak pulled an especially battered and worn looking wizard's hat from a dark corner and set it upon a stool. All eyes were set upon the hat, as a rip in the rim was suddenly visible and the hat began to sing.  
  
"Many years have gone by,  
Many heads have gone by too  
But my job hasn't changed,  
Although these lyrics I sing are new.  
There are other better looking hats,  
So many crisp and tall,  
But I'm the Hogwart's Sorting Hat,  
And I'm better than them all!  
Nothing can destroy me,  
I've survived everything to date,  
So that I can look inside your head,  
And place you to your fate.  
Which house shall I place you in?  
There's only one way to find out,  
Just put me on your head,  
And your house I will then shout.  
Will I put you in Gryffindor?  
Those that are brave and true,  
They always stand out in a crowd,  
And be righteous through and through.  
Then there is Ravenclaw,  
The ones that are wise,  
They have an urge for learning,  
And knowledge is their prize.  
Or how about Hufflepuff?  
There you'll never be alone,  
Loyal and just they are,  
And always with a friendly tone.  
Then there is Slytherin,  
The house of wit and skill,  
Nothing stands in their way,  
To get success's fill.  
I've sorted many wizards and witches,  
I've always said a rhyme,  
Now it's your turn to put me on,  
So your house the Sorting Hat can find!"  
  
The hall erupted in applause and the hat's tare of a mouth sealed back in place. Timothy grew more nervous than ever as Professor Slimak then held up a hand for silence and pulled out a roll of parchment.  
  
"When I call your name, come up and place the Sorting Hat on your head and sit on the stool. Once you've been sorted, put the hat back on the stool and go sit at your house table."  
  
"Ready, Timothy?" Darian whispered, a hint of nervousness in his voice now.  
  
"Yeah, I think so." Timothy squeaked.  
  
Professor Slimak cleared her throat.  
  
"Acott, Bran!"  
  
A boy with light blonde hair walked rather bravely up to the stool and picked up the hat. He looked at it a moment before sitting down and placing it on his head, the rim going well past his eyes. After a tense moment, the hat suddenly shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" and one of the four long tables burst into cheers and applause. Bran then took off the hat and went to join the Gryffindor table. Timothy and Darian exchanged glances.  
  
"Brashaw, Bobby!" Professor Slimak announced.  
  
Another boy with brown hair ambled rather clumsily up to the hat and quickly put it on, obviously wanting it to be done with. It took longer that time for the hat to make a decision, but it finally shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" to more applause and even some mummers of surprise. Bobby then stumbled off to join the other Gryffindors.  
  
There was "Crooks, Randy!" who went to Hufflepuff. "Dine, Luna!" who was proclaimed a Hufflepuff as well, nearly leapt with excitement at her name and bolted to join the other Hufflepuffs as soon as the hat left her head. The Ravenclaw house got "Dubbs, Salon!" to much dignified cheers. Then came,  
  
"Haughton, Carla!"  
  
The same girl that had taunted Timothy and his friends on the train, with her long and slick blonde hair, slender figure, and cream-colored skin, strutted up to the stool and dramatically placed the Sorting Hat on her head. Not a moment later it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!" and she proudly got to her feet and marched over to the others in her house.  
  
Her brother on the other hand, "Haughton, Sean!", nervously jumped at the sound of his name. He was much taller than his sister, although his stature had to be several feet smaller. Running a hand through his dirty blonde, spiky hair, Sean walked past the line and up to the hat. He almost dropped it, but managed to get it on anyway. Seconds later he was proclaimed at Slytherin, and he clambered off the stool to join his sister.  
  
"Hall, Darian!"  
  
Darian's excitement was mixed with fear and elation, as Timothy noticed when he came from behind him in line and went to the stool. He winked at Timothy and put the hat on. A few moments later, it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!", and Darian happily bounced down to the Gryffindor table to many cheers. Timothy clapped along with them, dread coming on at the thought of being separated. What if he got into a different house? Sure, his parents were Gryffindors, but it's not always true that families stay in the same house. He looked over at John, who looked just as troubled, perhaps more, slightly pale.  
  
After two more Ravenclaws, another Slytherin, a Hufflepuff, then another Slytherin… Professor Slimak reached the "P's".  
  
Timothy held his breath.  
  
"Potter, Timothy!"  
  
Much like his father had told him what had happened when he was sorted, although he had left the Sorting Hat part out, the entire Great Hall hushed to frantic whispers. Nervously looking around him, first at John who smiled weakly, then around him, he shuffled towards the stool. He set it's eyes upon it, determined not to pay attention to the mutterings of the others.  
  
"Look! It really is! It's Timothy Potter!"  
  
"Harry Potter was a Gryffindor, you know. My dad went to school with him!"  
  
"His mum was a Gryffindor as well, no doubt we'll get 'em!"  
  
"He looks just like Harry Potter… I've seen his picture everywhere."  
  
Swallowing hard, he glanced up momentarily at the professor's table. While most of the faces were a blur, there was a slight movement towards the end of the table. As he reached the stool, Timothy could make out through his glasses the face of his "uncle", Remus Lupin. With a relieved smile at seeing a familiar face, Timothy almost absentmindedly picked up the hat. Realizing what he was doing, his smile faded and he sat down on the stool… and slowly lowered the hat. The last thing he saw was the intent stares of every set of eyes in the hall.   
  
"Ah! Well, well, well… look at who we have here! Yes, just like your father you are, Timothy Potter. Extraordinary talent, oh my yes! Headstrong, a desire to prove your worth… but budding creativity. Em, like your mother you are there, young Potter. Ah, and just like your parents, the Etam Luoses, where shall I put you?" Muttered a voice in his ear.  
  
Timothy gripped the edge of the stool nervously.  
  
Of all the houses, I just don't want to end up in Slytherin with that girl… Haughton. He thought.  
  
"Oh? Slytherin is not too popular with the Potters, is it? Your father didn't want to be there as well… and I told him the same… Slytherin can help you be great. But, as you wish, it better be GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
The hall erupted into cheers as the hat shouted the word, most notably the Gryffindor table. Darian was jumping up and down, screaming with the rest, waving for him to come and sit by him. Timothy beamed as he ambled down to the table, being patted on the back and praised by countless people. The other three tables looked slightly disappointed, the least however were the Slytherins, who eyed him as he went past. He sat beside Darian and muttered hello to the other Gryffindors who excitedly exchanged greetings with him. Professor Slimak cleared her throat loudly for quiet, and the sorting continued.  
  
"Prete, Ashlie!" became a Slytherin. When John's name came up, Timothy watched anxiously as he nervously put the hat on. Nearly a minute later, the hat proclaimed him a Gryffindor, much to the surprised gasps of some people. Timothy ignored them, and he and Darian happily waved John to come sit by them. And finally, after Tina Vaulks and Amy Zimmerman became Gryffindors, Professor Slimak rolled up her parchment and took the Sorting Hat away.   
  
Happy chatter filled the hall, and Timothy began to get a good look at his surroundings. The table was set with beautiful plates and goblets, all ready to be eaten off of. It was then that he realized how starving he was, and his stomach growled. He remembered his parents explaining to him about the elaborate feasts that Hogwarts held, most notably the Start of Term feast. Looking around eagerly, there wasn't a scrap of food to be found. Darian could hardly contain himself.  
  
"This is a lot better than what my dad told me about! And mom said nothing at all! I wonder where she is?" He made himself busy looking around the hall. Timothy smiled over at John, who smiled back, a little bit more at ease. It was odd seeing him being so tall, sitting next to older kids and matching their height. If no one knew him, he could pass as a fourth year.  
  
There was a loud tapping sound, and Timothy, as well as the entire hall, looked up to the professor's table where a tall man was standing. He had real dark gray hair that extended to his short beard, and wizarding robes of navy blue. While he was obviously the oldest of all the professors at the table, he had a youthful face and his eye shined brightly as he looked out at the students. Timothy then suddenly remembered who he was; he was Eian Dumbledore, the son of Albus Dumbledore who had been headmaster when his parents went to Hogwarts. He remembered the kind old wizard, who was close friends with his parents, mainly when he had gotten his own glasses from him. It was at his funeral nearly three years prior that Timothy met his son, Eian. Now he was headmaster, and Timothy only hoped that he would be just as nice as his father was.  
  
"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts, and welcome to all our new students!" He said merrily. Timothy remembered how when he first saw him, that he was rather shy and quiet, but after three years on the job, he must had fit in quite well. "Without further delay, I say we eat!"  
  
Instantly, the plates, platters, bowls, and goblets filled to the brim with deliciously smelling food. Timothy, Darian, and John stared wide-eyed at the selection, as older students quickly filled their plates without a blink of an eye. Hurriedly getting over the amazing sight, the three of them soon joined in. Timothy's mother was a good cook, and even his father had made some tasty meals before, but never in his life had he tasted such great food of such variety! There was even food that he recognized as American, like Boston deep-dish pizza and southwestern chili. Although, he avoided the chili. When he, and everyone else, had had their fill, everything vanished and in it's place was dessert! Darian squealed with delight, and even John let out a gasp of joy. Timothy forgot how full he was and piled his plate with every dessert imaginable from every culture that he had names for.  
  
By the time the plates and goblets had emptied afterwards, Timothy felt like he had grown to the size of a whale. Darian was patting his stomach contently, and John reminded Timothy of just how sleepy he was as he saw the tall boy awkwardly rest his head on the table. Not a moment too soon, Eian Dumbledore once again stood up and motioned for silence.  
  
"Well, now that we've all had dinner and a satisfying amount of dessert, it's time to make some announcements before I dismiss you all to bed. The Forbidden Forest is off limits to everyone, as it always has been. Mr. Peters has requested that there will no longer be anymore free-roaming Magicomps, after last year's unfortunate incident involving a spell of computerized Jell-O making it's way through the halls in the middle of the night."  
  
Timothy exchanged a glance with Darian, as some older boys down the table snickered.  
  
"Anyway, lastly I would like to remind you all that Prefects are to be respected. Anymore problems in this matter will be dealt with seriously." He glanced briefly over at the Gryffindor table, and Timothy followed his gaze to see him looking at Taku Smith, who was blushing slightly but held his smug look. "OK then, up to bed, all of you! Classes start tomorrow."  
  
The hall got to their feet, and Timothy sleepily got to his and followed the other Gryffindors out of the hall and up a marble staircase. Darian yawned and John swayed to the side slightly as they made their way.  
  
"Oh, look! New students!"  
  
Timothy jumped as well as the other first years, as a vaporous head had peaked out of one of the stone walls. It was a ghost, a young man with sweaty looking hair. He smiled at them all, but Timothy, Darian, and John instinctually drew closer together.  
  
"Hello there, I'm Dan. Nice to meet you all." He said.  
  
"Dan! Oh, it's not like you've never seen new students before!"  
  
Another head, the ghost of a woman with short and shaggy hair, popped out of the opposite stone wall. The first years stared at them both with awe, while Taku Smith stormed from the front of the line with his hands on his hips.  
  
"Please you two, I can't have the group standing here in the corridor staring at you all night long. You can show off in the morning." He said exasperatedly. Turning quickly on his heels as the two ghosts stuck their tongues out at him, Timothy heard a clunk fall near him and he bent down to see what it was. Some sort of a black, stone tube had fallen from Taku's robes. Without a moment's thought, he picked it up and held it over to Taku, who was marching gruffly up another set of stairs.  
  
"You dropped this Tak- er, Smith." He said politely, holding it out.  
  
Taku turned and looked, his face suddenly going pale and his eyes narrowing with rage that made Timothy nearly fall backwards.  
  
"Give me that!" He snapped, whipping the object from his hands. Stopping in his tracks, he countered Timothy as if he had just insulted him. "Touch it again and I won't be hesitant in deducting points!" He looked at the rest of the group. "That goes for all of you! Let it be known, I don't mind taking points from my own house!"  
  
An awkward silence fell, Taku giving them all (especially Timothy) a last angry stare, before he turned and continued to lead them on. Timothy looked sheepishly at Darian and John, who gave him sympathetic and unknowing looks. Bran Acott, another first year, muttered behind them,  
  
"Sheesh, touchy touchy!"  
  
As alarming as the previous event was, Timothy wasted no time in going back to his sleepy stupor, as they reached a large portrait hanging on the wall. With as much interest as he could muster in his drowsy state, Timothy eagerly looked for the Fat Lady, who as his parents had told him, was what guarded the entrance to the Gryffindor tower. Much to his surprise, and a silent gasp from the other first years, it was a portrait of a giant.  
  
"There 'yeh are, Smith. Been wonder'n when you'd show up. What's the password?" The giant said. He had a forest of dark brown hair and beady little black eyes, but they shown with kindness. However he looked down at Taku with formality and even annoyance.  
  
Taku folded his arms and tapped his foot.  
  
"Cornish Pixies." He sighed. "Open up, now."  
  
With a grunt, the portrait swung open, and the group began to clamber inside. Timothy could of sworn he had heard the voice of that giant before, but he couldn't place it, he was too tired. He was too tired to admire the comfortable arrangement of armchairs and couches surrounding a hearty fire. All he was able to do was to walk in the pointed direction from Taku to the boy's dormitories. With Darian and John trooping behind him, Timothy followed Bran Acott to the door labeled "First Years", and went inside. Six four-poster beds, each with a trunk in the front, were prepared for them. Timothy found his with no problem, and sleepily pulled off his clothes and put on his pajamas. Darian and John, as well as the other boys, did the same, and without a word other than "Good night", they got into bed.  
  
For a fleeting moment, Timothy's stomach clenched at the thought of not having said goodnight to either of his parents, missing his mother's kiss goodnight and his father's usual ruffling of his already messy hair. But sleep hit him, and his sudden homesickness was forgotten. For now.  
  
  
It was in the morning that Timothy got his first real good look at his surroundings. He not only shared the dormitory with Darian and John, but with three other boys as well. Bobby Bradshaw had moved to America after he was born, when Voldemort was still in power. His family moved back when the threat was gone. Bran Acott was from Wales, his family lived in hiding while the dark wizard was still at large. He was exceptionally attached to Timothy once they were getting ready to go down for breakfast, treating him like an idol. Lastly there was Ben Johnson, who never spoke a word. He only communicated with motions of his head, and Darian gave Timothy a puzzled look when he had tried to ask him if he had extra toothpaste.  
  
If there was ever a time that he had been gawked at more, nothing compared to his trip to breakfast. Timothy, Darian, and John tried vainly to find their way down to the Great Hall… and along the way were stopped by nearly every student of every age.  
  
"Wow! Timothy Potter! Your parents are famous!" One third year shouted as he walked past.  
  
Tell me something I don't know. He thought bitterly to himself.  
  
Finally, they reached the Great Hall, and the three of them took seats at the Gryffindor table. Ignoring the stares from around the hall, Timothy filled his plate and began to eat. Not long afterward, Bobby came running over to him with a rather battered piece of parchment.  
  
"Timothy, you dropped this just outside the common room. I tried to go back in and put it on your bed, but that giant in the portrait had moved and I couldn't get in. Sorry."  
  
Timothy's eyes widened as he recognized the old parchment as the one his father had given him before he left. He graciously took the parchment and hesitated. His father had instructed him on how to work it, but had told him to do so in private. Both John and Darian were looking at him and the parchment with interest, and Timothy frowned as he put down his fork.  
  
"What's that?" Darian asked, pointing at the parchment. John nodded in agreement.  
  
"Oh… er… well, it's… um…" Timothy stuttered. He looked at them both in turn uncertainly.  
  
"Come on, what is it?"  
  
"I really don't know myself, actually." Timothy replied honestly, staring at the battered and worn parchment.  
  
Darian and John exchanged glances.  
  
"Oh come on, Timothy… I thought we were friends! You can tell us!" Darian's narrowed.  
  
Timothy sighed deeply, then looked around to see if anyone else was looking. Unfortunately, he was the center of attention, and he slouched down in his seat.  
  
"Honestly," He whispered to them, motioning for them to lean down closer to him so that he could talk quietly. John had a hard time doing so, since he was so tall, but Timothy soon had their absolute attention, smoothing out the parchment under the table. "The only thing I know is that you tap it with your wand and say 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good' and… well, that's all I know."  
  
Darian looked at the parchment with growing interest, his eyes beaming.  
  
"Where'd you get it, Timothy?"  
  
"My dad gave it to me. It was made by my grandfather, and it was passed down to him when he was at Hogwarts. Then, before I got on the train, my dad gave it to me and told me what to do. But he wouldn't tell me what it is."  
  
John, however, looked nervous.  
  
"I dunno, Timothy, if you have to say something like that it's probably not good."  
  
Timothy opened his mouth to reply, but Darian spoke up first.  
  
"Don't be such a wuss, John. His dad gave it to him! Harry Potter would not give his kid something dangerous… please!"  
  
"What are the three of you doing?" Said a sharp voice.  
  
The three of them, in union, looked up to face Taku Smith… looking pompous as ever and carrying a stack of schedules.  
  
"Uh…"  
  
"Er…"  
  
"Umm…"  
  
Taku glared at them, then, with an annoyed sigh, leafed through his stack and held out their schedules. They took them without a word.  
  
"I have my eye on the three of you." He said slowly, then looking at Timothy he said: "Especially you, Potter. You may be famous, but that does not exclude you from rules. Remember, I have no objections to deducting points from my own house." And with that he walked off down the table.  
  
Timothy frowned after him, Darian smirked, and John looked at his schedule and back at them nervously.  
  
"I really don't like that kid." Darian muttered, looking down at his own schedule.  
  
"No wonder they make fun of him, and for more reasons than just his name." Timothy agreed.  
  
"We should stay away from him." John said quietly.  
  
"Don't have to tell me twice." Darian said. Timothy nodded in agreement.  
  
Suddenly, there was a sound like distant thunder, and the hall was soon filled with flapping owls bearing packages and letters. Timothy, as well as his friends, looked up in awe at the sight of so many owls. One of them, large and dark gray, came swooping towards them. Timothy's face spread into an excited grin as his own owl, Windstone, landed between his plate of bacon and his goblet of orange juice.  
  
"Windstone! You have a letter for me!" He said excitedly, taking the letter from his talons. Both Darian and John gawked at the bird with fascinated grins as Timothy ripped open his letter.  
  
  
Dearest Timothy,  
Your father, sister, and I hope that you have a wonderful first day at Hogwarts. I'm sure you must be very excited! We are all anxious to hear how it goes, so be sure to send Windstone with a letter home soon. Have you met any new friends yet? Don't worry, things will get easier as time goes on. Your father is especially keen on wanting to know when your first flying lesson is. I know he's up to something… he's been giving me these looks lately and I just know that he's gone and done something behind my back. You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you? Oh dear, why do I bother? I'm sure I'll hear about it soon, if not later. Alright honey, be good, and keep in touch!  
Love,  
Mom, Dad , and Kalina  
  
  
Timothy grinned and folded up the letter. Both Darian and John did not receive letters, and lingering over his made Timothy feel uncomfortable. His thoughts instantly went back to the old parchment, and he picked it up again. However, Windstone fluttered onto his shoulder and gave him a nip on the ear.  
  
"I have to write a letter first… I'll come see you at the end of the day with one, alright?"  
  
Windstone hooted, glanced at Darian and John who were still staring at him, and took off with the rest of the owls. The two boys then looked back at Timothy expectantly.  
  
"So, when do we try the parchment out?" Darian asked.  
  
Before Timothy could answer, the bell for the first class rung, and students began to leap to their feet and leave the hall. He nervously looked down at the beaten parchment and shoved it in one of his robe pockets.  
  
"Let's try it during lunch, we'll come here early and then find some place private." He said, getting up and checking his schedule.  
  
Darian nodded, John looked nervous, and the three of them walked out.  
  
"Ready for transfiguration?" Timothy asked them.  
  
Darian opened his mouth to reply with a smile, but it faded and he lost his words. John looked pale.  
  
"I just hope we can find transfiguration." He said with his quiet voice.  
  
A/N: Finally! I got something done and up! Like I had said before, I was working on my novel when the writer's block sunk in... and then, when I was ready to go back to my novel, Microsoft Word now refuses to open up THAT particular file! I screamed. I have to use Works again, and we all know about typos! Oh, btw, I fixed the "9 and 1/3" to "9 and 3/4" like it should of been in the last chapter. Sorry, but like I said, I'm cursed with typos.  
What I'm real excited about, is the HUGE site I made for Renee while I was suffering from writer's block. A lot of you have already been there, and please know that I update it everyday and news from me about my writing status is there... so if I'm absent from ff.net you can go there and see why! The address is http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com. Yes, I know it has a disney domain name, but fear not, there is no disney there. I'd like to make a huge and happy wave ::waves:: to all who've been there! Thanks! Oh, and one of my best friends, Ashlie, has made some fanart of Renee for me! Go check it out on the "Renee Chronicles" page!  
As for my LOtFP fans, I'm sorry... I shall try to get chapter 3 of that up, for I am more than half-way through it.  
Umm, I guess I'll go now. Gotta start working on chapter 4, and try to get chapter 3 of LOtFP up for yeh... ttfn!  
::waves::  
~OrcaPotter 


	4. Of Ghosts and Tunnels

A/N: Ah, I'm happy it wasn't too long after the last post that I've gotten this one up! And even with Macbeth line memorizations (in which I did well and even won best actress for!), math tests, art club problems, and ANOTHER cold... I got this up! I'm happy to report that things DO happen in this chapter, pay attention 'cause things get fishy! Be happy, for I think this is a long and quite juicy chapter. Ah, so... let's get on with it... for I need to put this horrible mound of clothes on my bed away.  
DISCLAIMER: Really the only thing to disclaim is the name Potter, Hogwarts, Hagrid... and anything else you deem came from the books.  
  
  
Chapter Four: Of Ghosts and Tunnels  
  
  
Getting around Hogwarts was a lot easier said than done. With stairs that moved positions every day, steps that would disappear from under your feet, doors that were never where they were the day before, and the sheer size of the place, it was a wonder that Timothy and his friends did end up in their classes.  
  
In their very first class, transfiguration, they were introduced to Professor Miller. He was a young man, not much older than his parents, from America. Before calling roll, he showed off to the class by turning one student's quill bottle into a mouse. He was tall and well built, with real short brown hair and hazel eyes that were full of mischief. Timothy immediately liked him, he was proving himself to be a fun teacher, and the best thing was… he was the Head of House for Gryffindor. Professor Miller liked to joke around, and when he handed out the assignment to turn a piece of hay into a needle, he did so by turning himself into a golden retriever and passing them out in dog form. John took his assignment with wide eyes, while Darian couldn't stop giggling.  
  
"Seriously folks," Professor Miller said after he had changed back, leaning against his desk casually. "You have to be careful with transfiguration. It's perhaps one of the most difficult branches of magic you can do, and it can be dangerous. Please act maturely, or I will deduct house points."  
  
Timothy, however, was not successful on turning his piece of hay into a needle. Darian and John weren't having much luck either. The rest of the class wasn't much better, but Professor Miller reminded them that it was only their first lesson as the bell rang ending the class.   
  
To their surprise, Timothy, Darian, and John managed to find the rest of the morning classes without much stress. However, on the way out to herbology, hoping against hope that they were going the right way, Timothy got nearly knocked down to his feet.  
  
"Oh my gosh! Oh, I am so… so sorry!" Squealed a voice.  
  
Spitting out grass, being helped up by Darian and John, Timothy turned around to see a truly petrified girl. She was about an inch or so smaller than he was, with medium length brown hair and green eyes. They were about the size of dinner plates as she realized who it was she had bumped into.  
  
"Oh… oh, my… oh, dear… so, so sorry T-Tim… othy." She babbled stupidly as he looked at her simply and persisted to brush the grass off his robes. Darian was hiding a snicker, and John looked at the poor girl with pity. "I… I didn't see… I mean, I was… I was just…"  
  
Timothy waved his hand in a dismissive manner and gave her a weak smile.  
  
"Don't… er, worry about it, uh…" He implied to ask her name.  
  
"Oh, I'm… I'm Luna." She stuck out her hand so quickly that both Darian and John flinched. "Luna Dine."  
  
Timothy, rather awkwardly, shook her hand politely and turned to his friends.  
  
"This is John Stanton and Darian Hall. You're a Hufflepuff, aren't you?"  
  
Luna nodded furiously and Darian couldn't help but to let a snort slip. John frowned at him and Timothy looked uncomfortable.  
  
"Well, er… shouldn't we get to class?" He muttered, turning.  
  
"Class! Yes! Yes, of course!" Luna shrieked, and, hesitating, she seemed to not be able to make up her mind on weather or not she wanted to walk with them. Timothy sighed, and was about to offer her to join them when he was saved by another girl running up to Luna.  
  
"There you are Luna! C'mon, we're gonna be late!" The girl tugged on her robes and began to drag her past Timothy, Darian, and John. Luna gave them weak smiles and waved slightly as the two girls trampled into the greenhouse. Timothy let out a sigh of relief, while Darian finally let out his boughs of laughter.  
  
"I feel even more sorry for you, Timothy!" He gasped between giggles, slapping Timothy on the back. "You must have to put up with that a lot! That girl looked about ready to wet herself!"  
  
"Oh, don't pick on the poor girl, Darian." John muttered, wiping some of the brown hair out of his eyes. Timothy stared up at him, and John just shrugged, opening the greenhouse door for them all. Darian was still laughing when he bumped clear into the professor.  
  
"Excuse me, young man. Do watch where you're going while caught up with whatever it is you find so humorous." The professor said with an oriental accent, immediately shutting up Darian. He motioned his head to the three of them to find a place at a table. Timothy grabbed Darian's embarrassed shoulder and followed John to one that was towards the back. He blushed as he saw the still wide green eyes of Luna, who was at another table with other Hufflepuffs, and quickly busied himself with preparing his books.  
  
"I am Professor Zan, your herbology teacher. Please know, that improper treatment of my plants and the like will result in unpleasant consequences." He was short for an adult, most likely from Japan, and he had black hair as dark as Timothy's… while it was slick and neatly brushed. Professor Zan quickly proved himself to be boring and strict, and Timothy had a hard time paying attention, which wasn't good when it came time to preen some Apergocious flowers. Apergocious flowers are carnivorous, and when not touched the right way they have the ability to remove your entire hand. The three of them were reprimanded when Professor Zan noticed Darian trying to strangle the plant down by the stem to keep the snapping buds away. Much to Timothy's relief, though, none of them lost appendages and the class ended with only some minor cuts and hurt egos after a lecture from Professor Zan.   
  
"I think that was too hard of an assignment for the first lesson," Darian grumbled, soothing his red fingers. "Don't you think so?"  
  
Both Timothy and John nodded, as the three of them clambered into the castle.  
  
"Finally!" Darian sighed with relief. "Time for lunch!"  
  
Timothy suddenly remembered that they were going to find out what the parchment that his father had given him was. John noticed the realization on his face and began to look worried.  
  
"Are you sure you still want to mess with that parchment?"  
  
"Of course, John! Don't be such a whimp." Darian said, exasperated.  
  
"Don't worry, John. My dad would not give me anything evil." Timothy said, excitement building as they quickly sped towards the Great Hall to eat their lunch early.  
  
They found an empty space at the Gryffindor table, ate as fast as they could while still being able to breathe, and tried to casually leave the Great Hall so as not to raise suspicion. Timothy led the way, and they went up a couple of floors to find an empty classroom. He locked the door behind him, and faced Darian and John. John looked jumpy, and Darian looked about to explode with excitement.  
  
"Well, then? Get on with it, Timothy!"  
  
Timothy took out the worn piece of parchment from his robe pocket, smoothed it out on a nearby table, and took out his wand. Darian leaped to his side and watched with intent eyes, while John came over more slowly and stared with uncertainty. With a glance at them both, Timothy touched the end of his wand to the parchment.  
  
"Here goes nothing. I solemnly swear I am up to no good."  
  
Instantly, lines spread out from the spot where his wand touched the parchment, crisscrossing and intertwining all over. At the top, lines began to form the words:  
  
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs  
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers  
Are proud to present  
The Marauder's Map  
  
The old piece of parchment ended up being a map! A map of Hogwarts, showing every corridor, room, and staircase in the entire castle. However, there were extra passageways and tunnels branching off from concealed places all over. The three of them stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed as tiny dots sprang up and began to move around. They were labeled with names. One, labeled "Eian Dumbledore" showed that he was with "Lynette Slimak" in her office. They stared in silence and complete awe.  
  
"Woah!" Darian finally muttered slowly. "Now this is cool!"  
  
"Your grandfather made this?" John asked, taking the parchment in his hands.  
  
"And my father used it too." Timothy added.  
  
"Who's Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs?"  
  
Timothy tried hard to remember. He seemed to remember his father mentioning the names a long time ago, among the hundreds of stories he had told him about Hogwarts. But he couldn't place his finger on it.  
  
"I'll ask him in the letter I'll write home after dinner." He said. Darian peered over John's shoulder and continued to goggle at the map.  
  
"Just think what everyone else will say when we show them this!"  
  
"No!" Timothy said quickly, making his friends look at him funny.  
  
"Why not?" Darian asked, disappointment in his voice.  
  
"Dad said I wasn't supposed to tell anyone. I already went against my promise by showing you."  
  
John's face went pink with guilt. Darian's color changed slightly, but he still pressed the subject.  
  
"Why wouldn't he want you to share this? This is too good to keep to one's self!"  
  
Timothy shrugged, taking the map from John.  
  
"Let's just keep this as our secret. Don't tell anyone else, please?"  
  
John nodded immediately, then, looking over at Darian who was pouting, he elbowed him in the arm until he nodded too.  
  
"What if you loose it? People would see the map." John said.  
  
"Well, you do this when you're done." Timothy smiled and put the map back on the table. Touching it again with his wand he said: "Mischief managed!" and instantly the parchment went blank, just as it had been before.  
  
Darian and John, as well as Timothy, stared at it in amazement when the bell signaling afternoon classes rung. Grabbing at their things, Timothy stuffed the parchment in his robe pocket and followed the others out.  
  
  
Timothy's afternoon classes went smoothly. Charms class with Professor Slimak was pleasant, and he was praised for managing to get his Galleon to float above his desk. For once, he got attention from other people beside his family for doing something he did… not for what his parents did. Timothy was not looking forward to potions, after all the stories he heard from his father, he just knew that if he was going to have trouble anywhere, it would be in that class. However, he didn't die like he thought he would.  
  
"Hurry up and find a seat." The professor had said sharply. Timothy, Darian, and John quickly found a table towards the back. While he knew he wouldn't have a rival in this class, since they shared potions with the Ravenclaws instead of the Slytherins, like his parents did, a lot of the Ravenclaws looked at the Gryffindors as inferiors. The professor took to his podium.  
  
"I am Professor Visser," He said with a thick Russian accent. "Your professor of potions. Potions is a very interesting and challenging subject, and it can be just as dangerous as other magics. Know this: follow your instructions precisely and accurately and your potions will never fail you. Miscalculate anything, add anything you didn't need, don't put in something you needed… and you fail. And failing can sometimes be deadly."  
  
Everyone in the classroom gulped loudly.  
  
Professor Visser was a pudgy man, who was short and had neatly trimmed gray hair. As Timothy remembered his father's stories of his own potions teacher, Professor Snape, this man did not give off the impression that he had a grudge against anyone. However, the look in his gray eyes told the viewer that he was not one to be crossed. He was the Head of House for Ravenclaw, and while he did not treat the Gryffindors at all like Professor Snape apparently did, Timothy could tell he favored his Ravenclaws over the Gryffindors.  
  
They made a simple cleaning potion that day, and the class was promptly dismissed. Timothy, Darian, and John were anxious to finish their dinner, so that they could try out the map before bed. Trying not to rush through eating like they had to do for lunch, they finally did so and dismissed themselves to go back to Gryffindor tower. It was at that point that Timothy had his first real good look at the portrait that guarded the secret entrance.  
  
Darian had been leading the way, with Timothy directly behind him and John trailing off to the side. They reached the portrait to see the fantastically large giant wake from a nap.  
  
"Oh, I tell 'yeh… guard'n this here 'ole 'aint too excite'n." The giant yawned. But as Timothy stood to the side of Darian as he was about to say the password, the giant's eyes went wide with startled surprise.  
  
"Why… is it really?" He rubbed his eyes and stared open mouthed at Timothy, who began to grow uncomfortable and shift in his spot. Darian looked almost annoyed and John eyed the giant curiously. "'Yeh are! 'Yeh are! Why, look at 'ow much 'yeh've grown! Thas' right! You're at tha' age, aren't 'yeh? Las' time I saw 'yeh, you were a baby! O' 'course, you're parents 'been sending me photos, but it's not tha' same." The giant said quickly.  
  
Timothy stared and narrowed his eyes in concentration. It was very faint, but he seemed to remember from when he was really little seeing someone very much like this giant. Then it hit him!   
  
"Hagrid? Rubeus Hagrid?" He asked carefully.  
  
The giant nodded happily, his forest hair shaking all over his face.  
  
"'Yeh remember me! Oh, Timothy! 'Yeh look jus' like your dad." His eyes glazed over at remembering the past. "He looked jus' like his father too. Mus' be a Potter trait. An' jus' like your dad, yeh've got your mother's eyes." Then his face quickly fell a little.  
  
"Mus' not 'ave 'eard from me lately, 'eh? Ever since I took that job as ambassador for giants, never been more busy! I… I didn' even get to Dumbledore's… funeral." He wiped tears from his eyes. Timothy looked concerned.  
  
"What are you doing as a portrait, Hagrid?"  
  
Hagrid's face lifted slightly.  
  
"'Twas your father's idea. When 'Ogwarts was in plan'n for rebuild'n, your father and mother, as well as your Godparents too, insisted Gryffindor tower be guard'd by me. So, got me'self painted, and 'ere I am."  
  
"Dad never said anything." Timothy said, as Darian and John looked at Hagrid with growing interest.  
  
"Mos' likely 'e wanted it to be a surprise." Hagrid smiled. "Like 'Ogwarts so far, Timothy?"  
  
He nodded vigorously, and Darian and John soon joined in.  
  
Hagrid, however, suddenly looked at them suspiciously.  
  
"What are 'yeh three up 'ere so early for?"  
  
The three of them exchanged slight glances, before Timothy quickly came up with something.  
  
"Going to write a letter home. Mom and dad wanted me to tell them about my first day as soon as possible."  
  
Hagrid stared at them silently for a moment, Timothy nearly holding his breath, until he smiled.  
  
"Alrigh' then. Wha's the password?" He said importantly.  
  
"Cornish pixies." Timothy, Darian, and John said in union.  
  
With a final warm smile, Hagrid's portrait swung open, and the three of them climbed inside. Timothy felt relieved as he slumped into an armchair by the fire. Darian and John followed suit, but their eyes stared at Timothy expectantly. He knew what they wanted, and he swept the room casually to see that it wasn't too crowded.  
  
"Let's go up to our room, we'll decide where we want to go from there."  
  
Nodding, they went upstairs and spread out the parchment on Timothy's bed. Timothy muttered the spell, revealing the map, and again the three of them goggled at it for some time.  
  
"Where do we want to go?" John asked.  
  
Timothy studied the passageways all of them had yet to take so far.  
  
"There are paths leading off from corridors that we walked through today, but I didn't see anything but suits of armor and statues."  
  
Darian nodded.  
  
"Yeah. How 'bout we go check one out." He dragged a finger across one path that had a few branching off of it. Dots of students and teachers were crisscrossing and going up and down the paths. "This looks good," Darian pointed to a secret path behind a suit of armor down the second floor corridor. "Hold it! There's a dot in there!"  
  
Puzzled, Timothy pushed him aside to peer closer at where he was pointing. In one of the hidden paths, sure enough, was a dot. It was moving away from the entrance, toward the end of the map. The name made Timothy's eyes widen curiously.  
  
"Taku Smith? What is Taku Smith doing in a secret passageway?"  
  
"I tell you," Said John, crossing his arms and looking at the map with disapproval. "That guy is weird."  
  
"I don't like him," Darian added, shaking his head. "He's not like anyone else here… must be up to something."  
  
"What could he possibly be up to?" Timothy asked.  
  
Darian shrugged.  
  
"What do you do in a secret passageway?"  
  
"Go someplace secret." John said, quietly, making Timothy and Darian look at him curiously. No one said anything for a moment, looking back at the map.  
  
"I say we go see what he's up to." Darian said.  
  
John snorted.  
  
"Are you kidding? He sees us, he'll take away a boatload of points! Remember what he keeps reminding us? He doesn't mind taking away points from his own house."  
  
"But if he's doing anything… anything illegal," Timothy looked at them both. "Who's to know when someone else will find out? I mean, how many maps of this kind exist? If we catch him doing something he shouldn't, we could earn more points for Gryffindor than we could possibly loose!"  
  
Darian slapped Timothy on the shoulder with more admiration than ever, but John looked at them both sternly.  
  
"I still don't know…"  
  
"Oh, come on, John! Stop being such a wuss." Darian retorted.  
  
John's jaw dropped and he grew flush, but he was at a loss for words and closed his mouth, looking away angrily. Timothy looked at him with mild understanding on his part, but Darian was quick to ignore.  
  
"Let's go! Look, he's almost out of the map!"  
  
The dot labeled "Taku Smith" was nearly at the edge of the map, any longer and he would be gone from range. The passageway must had led off of Hogwarts grounds.  
  
Not bothering to clear the map, Timothy pocketed it, and the three of them (John rather reluctantly) made way to the dormitory door. But as Darian eagerly swung the door open, they jumped to see Professor Miller standing poised to knock.  
  
"Ah!" He sighed with his playful grin. "Just the man I wanted to see."  
  
Darian's eyes were wide like a deer's caught in headlights. Timothy's face was a worried blank, and John had a look of "See?! Told you something like this would happen!".  
  
Professor Miller, much to their surprise, laughed at their expressions.  
  
"What? You all look like I've just sentenced you to death!"  
  
Timothy and Darian gulped.  
  
"Anyway," Miller waved his hand. "I'm here with a message from Mrs. Hall. She wishes to see her son."  
  
Darian, as well as Timothy, nearly collapsed with relief.  
  
"Oh." Darian squeaked. "Why?"  
  
Professor Miller laughed again.  
  
"What would a mother want with her son? God bless, boy, she just told me to get you. I just so happened to be walking by and she came storming out in a tizzy 'cause you had yet to come say hello!"  
  
Darian looked at Timothy, as if wanting him to say something of an excuse not to go. Taku could have gotten out of the map's range by then. Timothy shrugged, and Darian sighed loudly.  
  
"Alright, I'll be right there."   
  
With a sulking look back at Timothy and John, Darian left with a smiling Professor Miller. Timothy closed the dorm door and looked back at John, who's expression was half-relief, half-scorn.  
  
"See how close we came to being caught?"  
  
Timothy frowned at him.  
  
"Taku Smith could be doing something really bad now, and all you can worry about is being caught?"  
  
John looked abashed.  
  
"Well, I… I… I just didn't want any of us to get in trouble. I mean, what if they separate us or something?"  
  
Timothy sighed, but then his expression softened and he put a hand on John's shoulder.  
  
"We'll get him next time, and then we'll be sure not to be caught. Don't worry, John, they can't separate us if we're in the same house."  
  
"But what if they separate us into different houses? I nearly went to Hufflepuff."   
  
Timothy just shook his head, but as he parted with John (who went to write a letter home), the butterflies returned to his stomach. He nearly went to Slytherin. If they did get caught and punished for doing something out of line, and they did separate them, would he have to go to the Slytherin house? The thought plagued him as he reached for some parchment and a quill. Trying to cheer himself up, he wrote his letter home.  
  
Dear Mum, Dad, and Kalina, (and Jeff too)  
My first day at Hogwarts was really, really, cool. The sorting was just as fantastic as you've described, and I got sorted into Gryffindor! I ate more than I ever had at the feast, and Mum, there was food from America too… as well as some from other countries. Yes, I've made friends! Remember Darian Hall, from when they first dedicated Hogwarts a few years ago? He's here with me, and in Gryffindor too! Also, I have another new friend, his name is John Stanton, he's also a Gryffindor.  
  
I like all my professors so far. Classes have gone well. Professor Slimak, my charms teacher and the deputy headmistress, said I did very good on my first charm. Potions is no where's near as bad as Dad described it. Professor Visser isn't too bad. As for my first flying lesson, Dad, they haven't told us anything yet. I'll be sure to owl you as soon as I know, though.  
  
How is Kalina and Jeff? I believe you missed Jeff on your last letter, is he OK? Well, I need to go now, hope to hear from you soon.  
Love,  
Timothy  
P.S. Hagrid's portrait is guarding Gryffindor tower!  
  
Timothy folded up the letter, and left the tower to send it off with Windstone in the owlry. As he trotted down stairs and past corridors, he couldn't help but to look for the suit of armor that shielded the entrance to one of the secret passageways. The one Taku Smith was in. Sure enough, he came upon the suit of armor. Looking it over, it didn't look any different. With a glance over his shoulders, Timothy began to poke and prod around it, seeing how it could be moved to get to the entrance.  
  
"Hullo there!"  
  
"Yaaaaa!"  
  
Timothy jumped, dropped his letter, and spun around to look into the transparent face of the ghost that he had seen after the feast the night before. He must of turned just as pale as the ghost, for the ghost began to laugh at him.  
  
"What's the matter? You look like you've just seen a ghost! Hahah! Get it? Oh, boy! I crack myself up!"  
  
"Dan, your jokes are as dead as you are."  
  
Another ghost, the same one that had reprimanded the one in front of Timothy before, had just appeared at his side. Timothy backed up slowly before with a loud CLANK, had knocked into the suit of armor.  
  
"Don't mind Zan, my dear living fellow, she has no sense of humor."  
  
Timothy nervously brushed his messy hair away from his glasses and nodded quickly. Unsure of what to do, he thought that if he just said nothing and stood still long enough, the ghosts would pass by without asking what he was doing.  
  
However, his curiosity got the better of him.  
  
"W-who… are y-you?"  
  
Dan, the ghost in front of him, rolled over on his back with a sad smile. Zan, the woman ghost, still was looking at him with discontent.  
  
"I'm Dan Bush, and that floating storm cloud over there is Zan Lore. The resident ghosts of the new Hogwarts, we are."  
  
"You're… you're the only ghosts here?" Timothy's breathing began to turn to normal.  
  
"There used to be more of us… but, they moved on to bug their families and old enemies. Zan and I are the only ones left. I thought that since the old Hogwarts ghosts left after the castle was burned down, that the new Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without ghosts. So, since we died to protect this castle, we should hang around. 'Twas quite boring hanging around the ruins for who knows how many years before they began to rebuild, but now… well, now I know how the 'ol ghosts felt!"  
  
"You died to protect the castle when it was being burned down?" Timothy asked.  
  
"We did. All aurors and Ministry workers were called to fight the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who when they advanced upon Hogwarts. It was a good thing that no students were here, but the staff and house-elves and other beings were in danger. Dan was a young auror idiot, and I went in to save him when he got too close to a band of Death Eaters. We both got blasted to death." Zan explained.  
  
"You were aurors? Did you know my parents then?"  
  
Dan rolled back over and peered closely at Timothy, so close he could feel Dan's coldness touch his nose. Timothy shuddered, while Dan's face began to widen in surprise.  
  
"Why, you wouldn't be Harry and Renee Potter's son, would you?"  
  
Zan let out a snort of exasperation.  
  
"No, Dan… he just looks just like them because he took a polyjuice potion. Of course he is! Look! He's a carbon copy of Harry and he's got the eyes of Renee! Not to mention, they've only been buzzing about the family since people began coming back here to Hogwarts grounds."  
  
Dan frowned at her, and Timothy began to grow inpatient. He wanted to get his letter off, and he wanted to inspect the suit of armor. The last thing looked improbable with the two ghosts looking.  
  
"Well… er, better be going, then." Timothy nodded his head and inched his way down the corridor with the ghosts beginning to argue behind him.   
  
"You know, you are just as grumpy dead as you were living!"  
  
"Oh, you just notice after how many years?"  
  
"I'm beginning to think that the others left because of you."  
  
"Me? You're the one that was killing them again with your bad jokes!"  
  
"Hey, it's not my fault they all had dry senses of humor! Not to mention you."  
  
"I had a life, you know."  
  
"You didn't then, and you still don't now."  
  
"That's it! I'm going to sick a vacuum on you!"  
  
"Like you're gonna find one in this castle? Sorry, my Muggle-born anomaly, but you're tricks have already been sucked up."  
  
"Ghosts." Timothy muttered as he left the corridor and ambled off to the owlry. Beginning to feel sleepy, he found Windstone, sent him off with his letter, and tried to stay awake to get back up to Gryffindor tower. As he went past what he believed to be a deserted classroom, voices stopped him. At first he thought it was the two ghosts again, but they were not the child-like bickering that he had left. Instead, it was low and harsh whispering. Again, his curiosity winning him over, Timothy crept close to the door and put an ear to it to hear.  
  
"I have my eye on you, Smith." It sounded like Professor Visser.  
  
"Professor, honestly, I have done nothing wrong! I was sent on an errand from another professor, like I told you!" That sounded like Taku Smith.  
  
"If you have done nothing, then why can't you tell me who it was that sent you?"  
  
"I… I don't remember, that's why."  
  
"There are potions that can make you talk."  
  
"I'm aware of that, sir, but there is no need for them for I am already being truthful!"  
  
"The headmaster will hear of this, and your status as Prefect may suffer."  
  
Suddenly, there was silence. Timothy strained his ears to hear more, but he could hear nothing. As he leaned all his weight on the door, it abruptly was opened, and he fell face forward into…  
  
"Tak-! Er… I mean… oh boy."  
  
Staring down at him with eyes full of loathing, was Taku Smith.  
  
"Potter."  
  
Timothy pulled himself up; the room was black and he could only see Taku. There was nothing he wanted more not to see.  
  
"You. Are. In. Trouble." Taku barked.  
  
Timothy felt faint.  
  
"Oh. Boy."  
  
A/N: So, what did you think of that, 'eh? Cliffhangers, ah, how I miss doing those! Really nifty things those are. Well, aside from getting that stupid SAT cd-rom loaded on my computer and doing that to get ready for the rediculous test, I should have more time to work on this story. LOtFP will be worked on too, as soon as I convert that since WORD is still giving me grief.  
HEY! Thanks to you all who've been visiting Renee's site, and like I've told 'yall, I update it nearly everyday with news from me and more stuff I have yet to put up. The address again is http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com. Go. See. It. And sign the guestbook. BUT don't let that distract you from leaving a nice little review below!  
I WOULD like to shout out to Trinity (who I can count on for constructive criticism on my typos, thanks!), Ravennat, Katie, NWong (thanks, you sure know how to make an author blush!), Jenn, Lizzy, a girl, Lionheart Guy, and Kayara, and everyone else who reguarly leaves reviews! You guys are the best!  
I got a new CD from the Virgin Megastore at Downtown Disney (man, how I love that store)... listening to it now... ahem, but I'm sure you don't care about that. Yeah! Cold front! Now it's only 69 degrees! Chilly man! Hey, it's Florida, give me a break, I've never seen snow. I think I'll go now. Gotta get type'n again. Buh bye now.   
~OrcaPotter  
P.S. What about those elections, 'eh? And you know what? The county that I live in (Seminole) is the one that's left to count all the ballots by hand! Teehee, you can blame us for the delay in the elections... I mean, everyone else is. 


	5. The First Lesson

A/N: Greetings my fanfiction readers. I have something of importance to ask of you, which is vital to my writing. A lot of you are so wonderful with regular reviews (although, I'm having fears you didn't like the last chapter since it got so few reviews compared to the first two) but anyway, a review for this chapter is very necessary... VERY necessary! Because, I feel I went a tad overboard. What I mean is, I think I did the exact thing that I tend to shun away from in books by going into too much detail. Not detail like, "The leaves were a greenish type of green, at least ten on each branch like flocks of deer... etc. etc." you know. But, dialogue detail and all that nonsense. Is this a sign of enriching methods of literature? Or just, "Orca, just fess up and admit that you're not sure about the action, cut to the chase!" ::lets out a huge sigh because she has ten billion things to do at the moment::. Ahem, so, I will love you to death if you would just take your most well-deserved attention and read this through and leave a review (does that ryhme? Heehee!). Ahck! I'm rambling again! I tend to do this, please forgive me... must be all the junk with school and elections (which if my parents don't be quiet about the differences between democrats and republicans I'll eat myself) and pre-thanksgiving dinners (don't ask). ::blushes:: See? I'm still doing it, look, I'm shutting up now... please enjoy this chapter... and REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!! Please? You're cool, you know that?  
DISCLAIMER: insert disclaimer here  
  
  
Chapter Five: The First Lesson  
  
  
If there was ever a time Timothy felt more dread, it didn't compare to how he felt as he stared straight up into the enraged eyes of Taku Smith. Being fifteen, Taku easily towered over Timothy's eleven-year-old self. But seeing him even more ticked off than ever before, Taku might as well had been a giant.  
  
"There's no reason for you to be in the hallways at this hour, Potter," Taku seethed. "And certainly no reason for you to be eavesdropping on personal conversations."  
  
Timothy gulped loudly, knees almost shaking.   
  
"I… I was… I was just taking a walk, that's all." He spoke quickly.  
  
Smith leaned down and bared his teeth in a sneer.  
  
"Just because you're a famous Potter, doesn't mean you can go parading around the castle thinking you're immune to rules and etiquette. Ten points from Gryffindor! And if you aren't where you belong by the time I get back to the common room, I'll take ten more!"  
  
Nodding obediently, but the feeling of fear being switched with anger, Timothy turned to leave before Smith grabbed his shoulder roughly. He looked back and felt a pang of cold fear run through him again as he looked into Smith's menacing eyes.  
  
"Cross me again, Potter, and you'll regret it."  
  
Without another word, he let Timothy's shoulder go and went back into the dark classroom, slamming the door behind him. Timothy jumped at the sound, and stared at it with his heart pounding. Taku Smith was no longer just a grumpy Prefect, but a dangerous individual that he certainly did not want to upset again. But as he turned and slowly headed back for Gryffindor tower, a part of him was nagging his mind that he had to do something. What happened to Professor Visser? Had he caught Smith in the secret passageway? Did Smith do something to him to keep him quiet? The professor did threaten his status as Prefect, how badly would Smith protect his title? Timothy's confused mind must have showed as he absently muttered the password to a concerned Hagrid, wandered through the common room past a puzzled John, and went upstairs to his four-poster bed.  
  
Darian still hadn't returned from his meeting with his mother, and the rest of the boys were all in the common room. Timothy's fatigue must had taken over, for when he finally averted his mind from what had happened with Smith he found himself in his pajamas and in bed. The candles went out and the dorm went dark, and Timothy felt a deep pit in his stomach as another bought of homesickness hit him. If anyone knew what to do in this situation, it would be his father. He had told him all sorts of stories before bed of close shaves at Hogwarts. Closing his eyes, Timothy tried to imagine his father sitting at his bedside and telling him what he would do.  
  
"Whenever something unusual happened, I always stuck my nose in the situation before I knew what I was doing." He imagined his father saying. "Mystery was no stranger to Hogwarts, and it was always your Godparents and I who would solve them… no matter how many rules we had to break. Of course, your mother's not immune to mystery either… she's quite a good sleuth if I ever saw one."  
  
The thoughts of his father's would-be words soothed Timothy's mind, and he fell asleep before any of the other boys came up.  
  
  
The weeks went by quickly, and Timothy couldn't help but to forget his run-in with Taku Smith that night as he and the other first years were badgered with loads of interesting homework. He really couldn't help it, Professor Zan kept making them do these two parchment long essays and Professor Slimak always had them do an opinion report on which charms works best over others. Yet he didn't allow his studies to make him forget entirely to avoid Taku.  
  
When Timothy had told Darian and John what had happened, and what he had overheard between Smith and Visser, both of them were more shook up than he was. Especially John, who continued to keep close tabs on Timothy to make sure they stayed well away from the disgruntled Prefect. Darian, while cautious, shrugged it off over time. And while Timothy had let his school work occupy his mind, he would often glance over at Smith at the Gryffindor table during meals and ponder just what he was really doing that night in the secret passage, and what he had done to Professor Visser.  
  
Professor Visser, however, showed no signs of being harmed by Smith. There was no real way to tell how he treated him in class, for Smith had him with the other fifth years. Yet Timothy could bet that they were not on good terms.  
  
Since that night, the three of them had not looked at the Marauder's Map at all. It was folded neatly in Timothy's trunk and out of sight. Every once and a while his thoughts would go back to it, and burning curiosity would yearn him to take it out and explore. Darian would bring up the issue every now and then, but with quick negative remarks from John the matter would be promptly dropped.  
  
One morning in mid-September, the mail arrived as usual. Timothy looked up from his porridge to see the now-familiar sight of Windstone fly silently to his table and drop a letter in his lap. With a gracious scratch and some bacon, Windstone contently gazed at Timothy as he read the letter. Finishing it with a smile, he looked over to John who had gotten a rare letter from his own parents. Darian never did; he got notes from his father through his mother, the nurse, whom Timothy had yet to meet.  
  
John's face was slightly pale.  
  
"What's the matter, John?" Timothy asked as Windstone took off for the owlry.  
  
He quickly shook his head, pocketing the letter into his robes.  
  
"'S nutt'n." He muttered.  
  
The bell rang, and they went gathered their things to get to their first class. However, as they tried to get out, a crowd of other first years had gathered in front of a bulletin board near the exit. Curious, the three of them squeezed to the front to read the notice.  
  
FLYING LESSONS FOR FIRST YEARS  
Start this afternoon  
Promptly after lunch  
  
"Great!" Timothy shouted excitedly to both Darian and John. "I can't wait! And dad will really want to know how I do, don't forget to remind me to write home tonight."  
  
Darian looked just as excited, but John was still looking off-color. He didn't look nearly as happy about the news as they were, and simply grunted that they needed to get to class. Too worked up about the lesson, Timothy and Darian followed.  
  
Timothy could hardly concentrate on anything during his Defense Against Dark Creatures class. It was taught by Professor Lupin, who just so happened to be an old close friend of Timothy's family. He had the job when his father went to Hogwarts in his third year, but left right after. However, now, the class is called "Defense Against Dark Creatures", since the Dark Arts were thought to be long gone. However, the creatures still lingered. Timothy loved Lupin, and he often visited with him after classes.  
  
Yet, with flying lessons so close, whenever he could manage, Timothy and Darian would whisper flying tactics at a low whisper when the Lupin wasn't looking. John simply listened with a straight face and would often remind them to take notes as Lupin would glance knowingly at their table. Timothy didn't like to upset his "uncle", but his attention would flutter back to broomsticks without conscious thought.  
  
The bell for lunch could not have rung sooner, and Timothy, closely followed by Darian, rushed to the classroom door. However, Professor Lupin stopped him with a laugh and loud BANG of sparks from his wand.  
  
"Hold it there, young man… what's the rush?"  
  
Darian hesitated, but John willed him to move out of the room. With a nod of his head to go on, Timothy watched his friends leave and then turned to Lupin with a look of knowing.  
  
Lupin laughed again, nodding.  
  
"Of course, what else? Excited about your first flying lesson, 'eh?"  
  
Timothy dropped his bag and bounded happily over to bounce in front of Lupin's desk.  
  
"I can't wait, Uncle Lupin! Ever since dad told me all about his first lesson, and Quidditch, and…"  
  
He went on and on, Lupin nodding with a broad smile as he watched Timothy's jet-black and messy hair bounce with his impatient steps. Lupin looked much older than he really was, all-gray hair giving signs of turning white. However, his eyes were bright with life.  
  
Yet, as Timothy calmed down, something about Lupin's look made him consider him for a moment.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Lupin fiddled with papers and cocked his head from side to side.  
  
"Well, Timothy… I'm just… oh, I don't know. I just want you to promise me something, that's all."  
  
Timothy leaned forward and rested his elbows on Lupin's desk, looking up at him.  
  
"What?"  
  
Lupin stopped and looked straight into his eyes seriously.  
  
"Promise me you won't do anything… anything you aren't supposed to during your lesson."  
  
Timothy looked confused.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Lupin looked away a moment, seeming to consider his words.  
  
"Well, your father only made it on the Gryffindor Quidditch team by chance during his first lesson. He really shouldn't had done what he did… and I'm sure he's told you the story a hundred times," He said with a smile, which turned serious again. "I just don't want you risking yourself to show off, thinking you'll make the team. First years are not allowed to play and own brooms at school, and there hasn't been an eleven-year-old player since your father. Now, I know you are an excellent flier," He said quickly at Timothy's dropped and disappointed jaw. "And you've certainly have had more lessons by the most qualified teacher you can have than anyone else for as long as you've been able to sit on a broom… but don't do anything you weren't told to do and were told not to do."  
  
It had been Timothy's dream for as long as he could remember to be just like his dad and become a star Quidditch player as soon as he got to Hogwarts. Flying was his most favorite thing in the world, and if there was one thing he wanted to prove most it was to show how good he was at something he knew he could do well.  
  
"I already know all the basics, though." Timothy pleaded with him. "If dad could…"  
  
"It doesn't matter, Timothy. Besides, your mother already informed me to keep an eye on you while you're on a broomstick here… to tell you to keep a clear head."  
  
There was nothing more to argue about, Timothy's mouth was hanging open and searching for something that would let Lupin off… but nothing came. Lupin gave him a sympathetic smile, and took him by the shoulders.  
  
"Let's go eat lunch, shall we? Don't look so glum!" He said, looking down at Timothy who's face was flat with disappointment. "You're still gonna have a good time at your lesson, and you can help those with weaker skills!"  
  
Timothy shrugged, and they went down to the Great Hall together for lunch. Lupin waved and went to sit at the professor's table as Timothy gave him a nod and went to find Darian and John. He found Darian talking animatedly with Bobby and Bran. They smiled at him as Timothy sat down by John, who's tall stature sulked near the end of the table.  
  
"Why are you over here?" He asked him.  
  
John slowly turned to face him, fork poised in the air with some fruit. He stared at Timothy, and Timothy fidgeted a little at the intense stare that seemed to bore right through his face.  
  
"Why are you suddenly depressed about something?" He cocked his head. "Is it about the lesson after lunch? Why would you be upset about that?"  
  
Timothy turned to his plate and began to fill it, not answering right away. What he was feeling was silly to admit. He had been waiting for so long for their first flying lesson, so that he could show just how good he was and be accepted on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, like his father had in his first year. That's what he was planning to do… show off. As he thought about it more, the more he scolded himself for wanting to. Showing off was exactly what a pompous famous kid would do, and he didn't want to be that way. But as he dished some fruit onto his plate, he realized that's exactly what he would had become if his Uncle Lupin hadn't told him not to highlight his abilities.   
  
"I see," John said suddenly. Timothy flinched slightly as he realized that John was still looking at him for an answer. "Professor Lupin told you not to show off at the lesson, am I right?"  
  
"I wasn't planning on showing off," Timothy lied, turning red. "He just told me not to over-demonstrate my abilities."  
  
He could tell John didn't believe him, for he said nothing more until the bell sounded. Darian had rushed over and pulled them both out of the hall excitedly, running out to the grounds.  
  
By the time they all got there, every first year was standing in a row, waiting for the professor to come out. They found their place in line, and Timothy sighed. He was no where near as excited, now that he knew he wouldn't get on the team this year. Darian didn't notice his sudden low emotions, and John simply stared down at the broom at his feet like it was an alien life form.  
  
"Here comes the professor!" Shouted one student. Excited whispers erupted as Timothy noticed a figure marching from the castle. He stood up as straight as he could to get a good look, but John, with his tall vantage point, gave him a better description.  
  
"That's one tough looking witch," He whispered down to Timothy. "Looks like she works out a lot, she looks like she could walk through brick walls. Not much taller than me, though."  
  
Sure enough, a brawly young woman dressed in Quidditch robes stepped right up to the students with the stare of a military Sargent. Like John had said, she was slightly taller than he was, with piercing hazel eyes and blonde hair pulled back so tightly in a bun you'd think she would have a headache. She paced in front of the now silent first years, eyeing each one closely. Timothy's heart began to race, the aura of this professor made him want to get down on his knees and beg not to be in trouble. He glanced at John and Darian; Darian apparently had lost his cheerful excitement and looked as uncomfortable as he did, John, on the other hand, looked worse than ever before. He was a shade of nervous green, and he seemed to be muttering to himself.   
  
The professor was making her way to stare at him and his friends. He couldn't move, and he forgot all his troubles about the lesson. Swallowing dryly, he watched her intently as she bore her sight into Darian's face… who let out short gasps. Then she moved to John, who looked faint as she swept him over with a look of disapproval, as if she were inspecting sheep at a livestock auction. Timothy watched with wide and unwavering eyes as she then moved swiftly over to him. Her gaze met his terrified stare, and he could of sworn his heart stopped when the professor's face stretched in surprise.  
  
"Well, if I do say so myself, it's the son of one of the best darn fliers I've ever met! An honor to meet you at last, Mr. Timothy Potter."  
  
Before he could breathe, she had reached out her large and powerful hands to take his and shake it vigorously. He felt his whole body shake, and he corrected his askew glasses with his other hand.  
  
"If the saying, like father like son, is a true statement… then I expect to see some impressive flying from you today, young man." She said loudly, breaking her handshake and turning from him to face the class. Timothy practically melted with relief on the spot, as Darian stared at him with shock and awe, and John simply looked at him nervously.  
  
"My name is Professor Mali. I will be your flying instructor. Flying, children, is an art. It's not to be taken lightly. It takes great skill, wit, courage, and persistence to become an expert flier. Now, we'll start at the basics. Mounting your brooms. There's a broom at your feet, when I say so, you will all command it with a strong 'up!'. Got it?"  
  
Everyone nodded.  
  
Professor Mali looked pleased, made a quick sweep of the class with her eyes, and shouted "Now!".  
  
"UP!" Shouted the class in union.  
  
Timothy, feeling slightly better at the prospect of doing what he enjoyed most… and not thinking about what Lupin had told him earlier, casually mounted his broom. Everyone else either had difficulties staying on, keeping the broom still, or even getting it off the ground. Darian, with more effort, managed to get on his broom and beamed at Timothy for being able to do so.  
  
"Mom wouldn't let me fly before," He shouted over to Timothy and John among the loud chatter of the class. "But she has no choice but to let me now!"   
  
"Ahck! Oh. Cruds." John fell off before he even sat down.  
  
Timothy stared, trying to hide his amusement at seeing everyone struggle. He felt completely comfortable now, and he was no longer bothered by the fact that he wouldn't be joining the Quidditch team since he couldn't prove his worth. Yet as he observed the professor, yelling orders and tips to the struggling students, he saw Professor Lupin walk out from the castle with a smile. Timothy always felt happy when he saw his "uncle", however, his heart sunk slightly again at the thought that he was coming out not just to watch… but to make sure he didn't do anything to show off.  
  
Lupin waved slightly as he went up to Professor Mali, Timothy lightly waved back and then pretended to concentrate on balancing his broom… which he could do in his sleep.  
  
"How's it going, Mary?" Lupin asked the professor as she finished pulling up Luna Dine onto her broom by the collar of her robes.  
  
"Uh… we're… getting there, Remus, we're getting there."  
  
There was another yelp to Timothy's side as John had fallen off again, in which soon afterwards (making Lupin jump), Professor Mali bellowed:  
  
"ALRIGHT! QUIET!"  
  
Instantly, every student who had been moaning, yelling, cursing, cheering, and crying went dead silent and froze in their spots. John had his leg poised in the air, and Darian nearly fell off himself in surprise.  
  
"I'll just stand off to the side, if you don't mind, Mary." Lupin blushed and backed away… somewhat quickly.  
  
"Oh, no problem, Remus. Pay attention! You could use some tips on your flying skills." Professor Mali kept her intent stare on the class, who still didn't budge.  
  
Lupin blushed even deeper, and smiled weakly at Timothy.  
  
"Ok, then… now that we… er… know how to mount our brooms, we shall start by simply rising higher in the air. Now, just pull up on the handle and stop yourself no higher than that tree there." She pointed to a tall maple that was not too far off on the grounds. "Got it? Behave yourselves! GO!"  
  
Instantly, the chaos broke out again. Half the class still tried to mount their brooms… including John ("Ahck! Stupid broom!"), while the rest who were successful shakily rose to the air. Timothy, with a growing smile on his face, rose faster than anyone else… but slowed down once he realized he was. He easily reached the height of the maple tree, and as he sat on his broom watching everyone else, he couldn't help but to start feeling bored.  
  
"Isn't this great?!" Shouted Darian, who was doing better than most at keeping his broom at the stable height. "Having fun, Timothy?"  
  
"Oh, yeah… yeah, loads!" He chimed, with a half-glance down at Lupin who was watching him. Timothy sighed and tried to forget it, looking down to see John still fighting and Professor Mali helping him.  
  
"No… NO! Mr. Stanton, you do not hit the broom! Wait, hold on a minute young man, the bristle-end is to your back, your on it backwards!" There was a loud yelp. "Oh dear… oh, no worries, it's just a flesh wound. Nothing serious, see? Oh now come on! You do NOT bite the broom!"  
  
Timothy and Darian exchanged glances, and broke out into hysterics.  
  
"Professor Lupin! Could you come here please?" Professor Mali called, and Lupin came jogging up to her side. "Can you take young Mr. Stanton here to the hospital wing? I'm afraid he's not cut out for flying."  
  
Lupin nodded, and with a quick glance up at Timothy who waved, he took John by the shoulder and led him up to the castle.  
  
"OK! CLASS! Now, at the height you're at, please fly to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and back here. GO!" Professor Mali ordered, and the class began to move.  
  
Timothy couldn't help it… he led the entire class with Darian close behind. Everyone was trying consciously to control his or her brooms, and he didn't have to blink to do anything. As he lazily looked around, he heard some yelling that made both him and Darian turn.  
  
"Get away, you annoying twit!"  
  
"I'm s-sorry! It's my broom… it's just…"  
  
"You've scuffed my shoes! Why you little…"  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry! So… so-sorry!"  
  
Carla Haughton, closely tailed by her nervous looking brother, was kicking out at Luna Dine, who was trying desperately to keep her broom straight and out of people's paths. Timothy scowled, along with Darian, as they watched Carla snap at her brother to come between them. With an annoyed grunt, he did so, and coldly shoved Luna away with a swing of his broom. Carla laughed as Luna nearly hit a Ravenclaw girl, but started to scream as Luna's broom picked up velocity and swung right back at them.  
  
Before Timothy could blink, Luna had knocked sidelong into the pair with a high-pitched scream. Carla barked out an angry moan and pushed her brother (who was sandwiched between the too) away, who then knocked Luna off her broom.  
  
Every student stopped and gasped.  
  
"AHHHHH!"  
  
"Oh my God!"  
  
Suddenly, Timothy's instincts took over, and he found himself flying at top speed in a spectacular dive… straight for Luna. His eyes narrowed and began to water as the wind whipped his face coldly, but he kept his focus on the falling girl. Then, just as suddenly, he pulled up under her, and Luna dropped behind him with a loud moan. He instantly slowed down, and landed, helping her off. She was so shook up that she merely stared at him, her knees shaking… and was nearly knocked down again by Professor Mali, who looked livid.  
  
"Are you alright? Are you hurt? What happened? I got distracted! Oh, my gosh, I'm falling behind! How did it happen? Who's responsible?" Her eyes darted back and forth from Luna to Timothy.  
  
"Carla Haughton pushed her off, Sean too." Timothy pointed upward. Carla and her brother were both looking down with mixtures of fear and hatred.  
  
"CLASS! GET DOWN HERE NOW! THAT MEANS YOU, HAUGHTON!" Professor Mali bellowed, taking Luna's shoulders.  
  
Darian landed beside Timothy, who looked at him speechless. Timothy just shrugged, he was too angry and worked up over what had just happened to explain.  
  
Somewhat slowly, the class landed, and both the Haughtons shuffled over to Professor Mali, who was literally steaming from the ears.  
  
"Do you realize that this young lady here could have been KILLED? What were you thinking when you decided to kick and push up there? That will be thirty points from Slytherin… EACH! And detention for the two of you as well!"  
  
Carla looked about ready to explode, her eyes wide and her cream-colored skin now an awful shade of scarlet. Sean, his tall figure trembling, looked just as scared at his sister as he was at Professor Mali.  
  
"This lesson is over!" Professor Mali ordered the ambling class. "Class is dismissed!"  
  
Darian tugged at Timothy's robes, who turned to go with him, but Professor Mali stopped him.  
  
"You will come with me, Potter."  
  
Timothy felt his stomach drop. What did he do? All he did was save the girl! He looked quickly at Darian, who stared at his face sympathetically and walked off.  
  
"All of you will follow me, please." Professor Mali ordered, and she took Luna's hand (who was tearing silently), and walked off toward a different entrance to the castle. Timothy followed close behind, and both Haughtons scowled at a slow pace behind him.  
  
Professor Mali took them into the castle and down corridors he had never seen before. However, he was too nervous and caught up with horrible thoughts of how he could be in trouble to notice all the new sights to see. Before long, the group stopped in front of a statue of a gargoyle. Timothy couldn't help but peer at it with interest as Professor Mali sighed, looked down at Luna who kept her gaze at the floor, and say sternly:  
  
"Saturn."  
  
Instantly, the statue of the gargoyle slid to the side, revealing a spiral staircase which was moving magically upward. Professor Mali, still holding Luna's hand, stepped up and proceeded to move along with the stairs. Timothy followed suit, and with a sharp command from Mali, Carla and Sean did so as well. They came up to a door which read "Headmaster Eian Dumbledore", and Mali knocked sharply upon it. Everyone was silent, and Timothy held his breath. The last time he met Eian Dumbledore face to face was when he was eight at Albus Dumbledore's funeral. The prospect of meeting him personally for the first time this school year on the terms he was there for made his insides shudder. His father would be upset… but it was his mother who would go mental at the news of him being in trouble.  
  
"Come in."   
  
Mali opened the door promptly and ushered them all in first, then came up behind them, shutting the door. Timothy's jaw dropped as he found himself in a circular office. The walls were decorated with the portraits of former headmasters, some snoozing and others looking at them with mild interest. Models of the solar system and scientific gadgets littered shelves filled with enormous volumes of books, and to his amazement, he saw a bright red bird perched near a large desk. It looked exactly like the one his father had told him about… Fawkes the phoenix. He stared at it, while he felt Professor Mali push him closer, along with both the Haughtons and Luna.  
  
A large armchair behind the desk swung around, and sitting in it was Eian Dumbledore himself. He was wearing copper-rimmed glasses and looked at them all with interest. Timothy swallowed hard, his eyes locked on the graying wizard.  
  
"What brings you up here, Professor Mali? Delightful to see you… and the young students as well."  
  
Carla Haughton had crossed her arms, refusing to look at the headmaster. Sean nervously swayed off to her side, eyes darting everywhere. Luna was subconsciously rubbing her arms and glancing up and down from the floor to Dumbledore, her face wet with tears. Timothy ran his hands through his messy hair, and fixed his glasses out of habit.  
  
"Well, Headmaster, I'm afraid we've had an incident. No injuries, but this matter cannot be ignored." Mali said sternly.  
  
Eian Dumbledore's face fell, and he looked more closely at each of them, Timothy groaning on the inside as his eyes swept over him and widen in curiosity.   
  
"I see. What seems to be the problem?" He asked calmly.  
  
"Carla and Sean Haughton, here, needlessly and foolhardily knocked Luna Dine off her broom during the flying lesson. If it wasn't for Timothy Potter, Ms. Dine could have been severely injured."  
  
The headmaster's eyes narrowed and looked more closely at Carla and Sean, who were both turning red slightly. Timothy's heart was racing; maybe he wasn't in trouble after all! Perhaps he was just there to testify.  
  
"Hmmm… this is serious." Dumbledore said slowly. He looked kindly down at Luna, who let out a muffled sob. "Can you tell me what happened, dear?"  
  
"C-couldn't… keep my-my b-broom still-ll." She forced through hiccuping breaths. "J-just flew in-into them… I d-didn't m-mean to! They… they p-pushed me back, and I… I f-fell."  
  
"She nearly knocked me off!" Carla shrieked suddenly, face all pink. "It was a reflex!"  
  
Timothy took in a deep breath as Eian Dumbledore's gaze met his.  
  
"What can you tell me about this, Mr. Potter?"  
  
"Well," Timothy let the breath out. "I heard Carla screaming at Luna, and turned around to see them. Luna was having troubles keeping her broom under control, it kept swinging into Carla. Carla was yelling at her and she called Sean over to buffer them. He shoved Luna aside, who then nearly knocked into a Ravenclaw, and then swung back uncontrollably into the two of them. Carla pushed Sean, who then pushed Luna, knocking her off the broom."  
  
"Then what happened?"  
  
"I… umm… I flew my broom down and got Luna before she hit the ground, sir." Timothy answered carefully.  
  
To his relief, Dumbledore said and did nothing. He simply looked at him knowingly and then sighed deeply.  
  
"Well then… we shall deal with this accordingly. I should say Ms. Dine has had quite a fright, and I would feel better if she had herself looked over by Mrs. Hall. Could you please take her to the hospital wing, Professor Mali? I will take over from here, thank you."  
  
Timothy watched as Professor Mali nodded curtly and took Luna gently by the shoulder, leading her out of the office. He then glanced over at Carla and Sean, Carla looking steamed as ever.  
  
"I should say that Professor Mali has taken care of point matters already," The headmaster addressed the Haughtons. "Your detention I will leave up for your Head of House to decide. I will notify him shortly. For now, you are both dismissed."  
  
Carla didn't have to be told twice. With a sharp nudge at her brother, they quickly left the office… leaving Timothy standing in front of Eian Dumbledore awkwardly and uncomfortable.  
  
"Er… can I go now?" He asked carefully, looking at him.  
  
"Hold on a moment, Timothy… I'd like to speak with you for a moment. Sit."  
  
Right behind him, a rather comfortable looking armchair appeared magically out of thin air. He sat down heavily, his eyes locked on Dumbledore.  
  
"You've grown considerably since I first met you a few years ago, 'eh? Still look just like your dad, you do. An extraordinary man he is, your mother too. Never in my life have I met quite a pair like them. Of course, there's no need to discuss what they've done… I'm sure you're sick of it." He said lightly.  
  
Timothy shrugged and muttered incomprehensible agreement.  
  
Eian Dumbledore's stare grew serious, looking at Timothy intently.  
  
"There's no doubt about it… you've got a lot to live up to, Timothy. You must know that, I believe. It's not easy being… well, famous. With your parents being who they are, the world looks upon you to be just like them. That's a lot of pressure for a boy. I'm sure your father has told you all about how his life was once he got to Hogwarts, finding out that he was famous and all. From what little my own father told me, and what I've observed of you so far, you're in the same boat as he was. What I'm getting at here, Timothy, is that I want you to know that you can't let it get to your head."  
  
Timothy stared at him.  
  
"I'm not. That's not the way I am." He continued as Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak again. "I didn't save that girl to show off… I didn't even know I was doing it before I landed. She was in trouble, and no one was moving to help her. I couldn't let her fall."  
  
The headmaster stared at him with surprise at Timothy's sudden brashness. Timothy immediately went scarlet, feeling terrible for lashing out like he did.  
  
"I'm sorry." He apologized, looking at the floor.  
  
"No need… no need, I really should apologize for myself. I didn't mean to say that you were… nor did I think you did what you did just to show off entirely."  
  
Even though Dumbledore was not upset, Timothy still felt awful. He shifted in his spot impatiently, wanting more than anything to be back with Darian and John. The headmaster eyed him and nodded.  
  
"Well, Timothy, all I can say is that I'm proud of you. Yes," He continued at Timothy's shocked expression. "That took great courage to do what you did, and for your unselfish bravery I'm going to award Gryffindor forty points."  
  
For the first time for what seemed like forever, Timothy smiled. Eian Dumbledore beamed back and sighed.  
  
"With that said and done I believe you should go back and join your house now. No doubt people will want to ask what happened."  
  
Timothy nodded eagerly and turned to leave, as he opened the door Dumbledore called after him.  
  
"Oh, and Timothy? I'm going to ask Professor Miller to speak with you, later."  
  
"Why?" Timothy asked puzzled.  
  
"There is a rule that must be reviewed again, and I believe that the revised version should begin with you."   
  
With a last knowing smile, Eian Dumbledore turned in his chair and Timothy walked out. Why would Professor Miller need to speak with him about a rule? Did he break one? How?  
  
He didn't realize that he had stepped from the moving staircase and was standing in front of the gargoyle, which had moved back to conceal the entrance. Hand running through his hair, he made way down the corridor.  
Unfortunately, he was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't see the lanky figure peering from the corner of the opposite corridor. A figure who's eyes were narrowed directly at him.  
  
  
A/N: ::dances on toes:: Well? WELL? What did you think of this one, 'eh? Oh, please tell me, I'm afraid this story is getting too dragged out, but one part of me is saying it's necessary to set up everything to come. Oh fruity! Why do I have to have homework? Why do I have to clean my room? Why do I have to study for the SAT? Why do I have to also want to draw? Why do I have no energy? Why is the sky blue? Why is a raven like a writing desk?..... why do I keep asking questions? I'm not going to bore you with the lecture my mom gave me the other night about how I need to pick a "job job" in writing and that I can't start out with just writing a book and hitting it big. I'm not going to bore you on just how nervous I am about getting ready for college just when I finally get used to high school. I'm just going to get down on my hands and knees and beg you to review and VISIT RENEE'S WONDERFULLY WONDERFUL SITE THAT I'M JUST SO TICKLED ON HOW GOOD I DID ON IT and persist to tell you that I UPDATE IT EVERY DAY and that NEWS FROM ME IS THERE WHEN I'M NOT POSTING FICS... and yadda yadda and a yadda. So, my most favorite reader as you are ::smiles sweetly:: do me the utmost favor and leave a nice little review down there and then hitch a ride over to http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com and check that little puppy out.  
And before I go tackle the mess in the bathroom and find some amusing way of putting away my clothes, I would just like to make an enthusiastic shout out to international readers! Way coolness man! Teehee, I just think it's so spiffy to hear from you guys (don't mind me, I'm easily fascinated). ::blushes again at the awkward pause and blank stares:: Ummm.... riiiiiiiggggghhhttttt.... I'll just stop babbling and let you go. HEY! I saw you, ready to click out.... if you've been paying attention, you'd notice that form below! I've already bugged you enough, I'll shut up at this point.  
~OrcaPotter  
::who feels like a rambling idiot at this moment:: 


	6. Rules and Realizations

WARNING! LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE AHEAD! Well, maybe not that long.  
A/N: ::Sheepishly looks at computer:: Well? What can I say... really, I don't know what to say to explain that... ::coughs roughly:: little humorous(?) fic(?). All that I can say is that when I am severely stuffed with turkey, sweet potato stuff, garlic mashed potatos, and lots of other yummy holiday things... plus add the fact that my friend was collaborating it with me... that my awareness of reality and sanity drops to a ridiculously low number and my imagination goes kooky! Be assured that that.... thing... story... fic... mistake... was not written by me, but by the crazy little person who lives inside my head that only comes out when combined with another person with just as much imagination as it does. Readers like Trinity (who I always count on for friendly constructive criticism (did I spell that right? Mann, I've been away from school too long, it's great!)), can be reassured that the real Orca the writer is back and Timothy's story has not been affected at all by that Thanksgiving creation. Nope, in fact, Timothy's story is looking to be AWESOME because I have figured out some shocking and amazing things that are sure to blow you out of your computer chairs!! No, I'm not kidding, I have something planned that is bound to make your jaws drop. But, that's for chapter 7... got to give that event credit all it's own. Nope, in this chapter, I'm sure you'll like it... fishy things continue to go on... and we see the true colors of Timothy's character. Did I not say this would be a long author's note? But it's gonna stop here, and you're gonna read! Yes? Gooood! And you're also gonna review, right? Gooooooooooood!  
DISCLAIMER: I think I need a re-count of my disclaimers... all disclaimers have a right to be counted. (You can stop pretending to laugh now, I did)  
  
  
Chapter Six: Rules and Realizations  
  
  
When Timothy arrived back at the Gryffindor common room, ready to tell his friends all of what had happened, he didn't find them. Bran told him that Darian had went to visit John in the hospital wing. So, after a hurried and forced chat with Hagrid (the portrait), Timothy was able to find his way to another part of the castle he had yet to see.  
  
He reached the double doors labeled "Hospital Wing" and decided it would be best to knock. Feeling awkward and slightly stupid standing in the deserted hallway in front of the hospital doors, Timothy tried to straighten his hair when one door opened slightly to reveal a very kind looking woman with red hair and brown eyes behind large spectacles.  
  
"You must be Timothy Potter. Come on in."  
  
She stepped aside to let him through and there he saw Darian, waving enthusiastically from a bed where a very glum looking John was seated.  
  
"Was just about to let him go, the poor thing." The nurse muttered from behind Timothy.  
  
"Hey Timothy! What happened? Did you get in trouble?" Darian said as Timothy surveyed John, who was now getting to his feet and blushing furiously.  
  
"Darian! Where are your manners?" The nurse scolded sharply to him.  
  
Darian rolled his eyes, but gestured to her dramatically.  
  
"Timothy, this is my mom. Mom, this is Timothy."  
  
She took his hand gently.  
  
"Mrs. Hall, and a pleasure to meet you at last. Darian has told me so much about you… well, stuff that I hadn't already known."  
  
"Mooom!" Darian wailed.  
  
His mother gave him an exasperated look before turning around and going into her office. Timothy smiled, but it wavered as he John grabbed their shoulders and make a quick exit.   
  
"What's going on, John? What's wrong?" Timothy asked, rubbing his shoulder.  
  
"He won't tell me," Darian said, annoyed.  
  
John just shrugged, which made both Timothy and Darian jump in front of his path and stare at him severely.  
  
"Now, really, John! Tell us!" Timothy ordered.  
  
It was really a funny sight to see; both Timothy and Darian were at least four inches shorter than John was, and he towered above them both. However, the look of shame and guilt on his face made him seem small… there was no power in his stature at all, and he averted his eyes from their stare, wringing his hands.  
  
"If… if I t-told you, you would laugh and never speak to me again." John whispered, so low, that Timothy and Darian had to lean in to hear.  
  
"Oh, now come on," Darian wailed, swinging his hands up above his head angrily. "Enough of this, just spit it out! We won't laugh, we never have and we never will!"  
  
John narrowed his eyes and put on a sarcastic smile.  
  
"It's not your average childhood tribulation." He barked out a laugh.  
  
A group of fifth year girls walked by giggling, and John turned and made a quick pace up the opposite end of the hall. Timothy and Darian followed, until they found John sulking in front of a large window.  
  
"Just tell us, you know you can tell us anything… it'll just be between us three. A secret that no one could ever pull out of us." Timothy coaxed, putting a hand on John's back.  
  
"You used 'us' too many times in your last sentence, Timothy." John said suddenly.  
  
Timothy blinked and Darian blew up.  
  
"Well, thank you Mr. Webster!"  
  
Both John and Timothy turned to stare blankly at Darian, who looked back at them with disbelief.  
  
"Don't you know? Webster? Webster's Dictionary? You know… Web- ahh, just forget it!"  
  
Darian turned and pouted with his arms crossed to stare at the stone wall, and both John and Timothy exchanged glances.  
  
"Anyway," Timothy said slowly, still eyeing Darian out of the corner of his eye. "Just let it out. Or we won't talk to you for not talking."  
  
John hesitated, making Timothy grow more annoyed and angry.  
  
"John…"  
  
"ALRIGHT! I'll tell you! I'll tell you… but you have to promise not to tell anyone." John was now beet red.  
  
Darian turned, interested once again, and looked earnestly at John along with Timothy. John let out a sigh.  
  
"I'm… I'm… I'm…" He stammered.   
  
"You're what?" Both Timothy and Darian asked in union.  
  
"I'm… I'm…"  
  
"FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING MAGICAL, SPIT IT OUT YOU GIT!"  
  
"I'mallergictobroomsticks." John said so quickly that Timothy did a double take.  
  
"Come again?"  
  
"Say what?"  
  
"I'm. Allergic. To. Broomsticks. THERE? You happy? Go on! Laugh!" John was so red and steamed with embarrassment that tears were touching his eyes.  
  
But Timothy and Darian continued to stare with blank looks.  
  
"You're what?  
  
"Now… how is that possible?"  
  
"I'm hungry. Can we talk about this at dinner?"  
  
It was Darian's turn to be stared at. John looked livid and Timothy didn't know what to say.   
  
"I just confessed the deepest, most darkest secret of my entire life to you, and all you can think and say is 'I'm hungry'?!" John shouted, making a passing second year Slytherin make a double take.  
  
Timothy was speechless, but held John back as he moved toward Darian. Darian was now just as red as John was.  
  
"Perhaps we should talk about this later," Timothy suggested. "We'll all feel better after we eat something, Darian does have a point."  
  
"I do?"  
  
"I can't believe this!" John muttered loudly, but allowed Timothy to pull him through the hall and down the main staircase, Darian closely behind.  
****  
  
"What are you saying?"  
  
"I'm saying that it's been well over a month now and he has not been successful."  
  
"I thought you said that he was reliable!"  
  
"He is, master, he is!"  
  
"Then why hasn't he fulfilled his mission?"  
  
"No disrespect, master, but the object in which you have made…"  
  
"Are you doubting my plan? Are you saying that the object in which I have labored over for four years is defective?"  
  
"No, my master, no! Nothing like that at all, master!"  
  
In front of a crackling flame, hundreds of miles beneath stone and dirt, stood a tall and menacing figure. Behind him, cowered a man looking much like the master, but giving off the auror of weakness before such power. The greasy pale hair of the master reflected the light from the fire, giving off even more sense of malicious intensity. He turned to look over his henchman, a long scar visible running down his face. The sight made the man tremble.  
  
"We are of one blood, you and I. Blood that is pure. The same goes for him… he is one of us, and I trusted you to ensure that one of the family brings my plan through. For only he could pull it off… not I." The master sighed.  
  
"If… if I may ask… why must we resort back to the very thing in which you freed us from?" The man felt his knees give way as he saw the dangerous gleam in his master's eyes.  
  
"Have you not been listening to me all these years? Is it not obvious, that because the Potters are alive, I cannot do exactly as I had planned? They are more powerful than Voldemort and Dumbledore was put together! Our hopes cannot come true as long as that pair is alive! I have no chance at facing them, now, alone. No… no, we must start small… at their very weakness. Their only weakness…"  
  
Silence ensued, and the master turned to stare back at the fire… the man swallowing hard in fear. However, as he stumbled back to leave… thinking the meeting over, his thoughts found it's way out of his mouth.  
  
"Harry Potter was starting small… and look what happened."  
  
The man barely had time to blink. He was thrown up against the wall with a blast of light from his master's wand so quickly it took a moment to realize just what had happened. Cold fury emanated from the master, and the man squeezed his eyes shut and looked away.  
  
"If you weren't a Malfoy… if you weren't my cousin… I would kill you now." He said slowly, dangerously, into the man's ear. "Let this be a warning to you, Hewlett, if he fails… you fail. Next time I won't be so merciful, no matter what your name is. You tell your dear sister too… it will be her that I will be after next if he doesn't take action soon."  
  
"Yes… Draco… my master, sir."  
  
The flames flickered, and Draco Malfoy roughly tossed his cousin, Hewlett Malfoy, aside.  
  
"Harry and Renee Potter will curse the day they ever met me. Voldemort was merely the beginning."  
****  
  
Three days after his first flying lesson, Timothy received a letter from home. A letter that made his heart skip a beat.  
  
Dear Timothy,  
  
Your mother and I just got the letter from Hogwarts regarding your first flying lesson. I have three words for you: WAY TO GO! I knew you would do fantastic! Just like we practiced, 'huh? Eian Dumbledore wrote to say that he's revising a certain rule. That gives me more than enough reason… don't tell your mother… to send you… don't tell your mother… your broom! Don't tell your mother. She still has great doubts about it, and while she in no way is any less proud of you, she feels it's not a good idea for you to be playing so young. But… well, not my son! So, I'll try and convince Hedwig or Keto to help Windstone bring you your new broom as soon as it's cleared from Dumbledore. Hope things are well, and you're keeping out of trouble. Oh, and Jeff sends his apologies for not contributing to the last letter… but I had him spell-locked on the roof for convincing your sister to help him get your mother's prized chocolate cake from the pantry. So, he was a little tied up at the time. I don't know who was more upset, me or your mother… I think I like the stuff more than she does! Uh oh, your mother is coming, better stop before she finds out I'm sending your broom. I love you, and I'm very proud.  
  
Love,  
Dad  
P.S. Don't tell your mother.  
  
Timothy beamed as he looked over at his friends. They were all at breakfast when the mail arrived as usual. John was not speaking much; he refused to discuss his allergy any further and so Timothy let it drop. He wasn't too sure how Darian interpreted it, for he hadn't said anything more about it either.  
  
When the bell rang, and they gathered their things for their first class, someone grabbed Timothy's shoulder.  
  
"Have a minute, Timothy?"  
  
It was Professor Miller, and he was smiling down warmly at him.  
  
"Well… I guess so, but…"  
  
"Oh, don't worry. I'll get you to potions before you know it. I just need to speak with you privately for a moment." And before Timothy could answer, he was pulled out of the Great Hall and was being swept into a corridor where a rather excited looking seventh year stood waiting.  
  
"This is Keanu Nole. He's the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain and seeker. Keanu? This is Timothy Potter." Professor Miller introduced.  
  
Keanu smiled broadly. He was almost as tall as Professor Miller, with black hair like Timothy's and brown eyes. It looked like he could wrestle a bear and win, and when he grabbed Timothy's hand in an eager handshake, Timothy's hand went numb at his grasp.  
  
"Of course! Who could miss the son of one of the greatest known fliers in the world?" Keanu squealed.  
  
Timothy turned flush.  
  
"My dad didn't play professionally though." He said meekly.  
  
"But he was the best Hogwarts had ever had!" Keanu insisted. Professor Miller was nodding.  
  
Timothy was used to the praise, and a little part of himself deep down was yearning to boast out that he was just as good as his father is and will do Hogwarts proud once more. However, he contained himself, not wanting to gloat.  
  
"Anyway, Timothy, it has been allowed that you and other first-years be able to try out for the team." Professor Miller said.  
  
"There's another opening for a chaser." Keanu muttered with a sigh.  
  
"Another?" Timothy asked, studying Keanu's troubled face.  
  
"Yeah. The team… er… hasn't been too consistent for the past year or so. Ever since… well, there has just been some conflicts that some players have found difficult."  
  
"Nothing I'm sure you couldn't handle, Timothy." Professor Miller said quickly. "The House Cup has been won for the past three years because of our… well, because of the team. It's just keeping the players that we have a problem with."  
  
"Why hasn't the tea-…?" Timothy began, but Professor Miller interrupted him.  
  
"Oh, this just came in by Express Owl a few minutes ago for you." He handed Timothy a long package, the return address was his own.  
  
"Your broom from home, no doubt, and just in time too. Meet Keanu and the rest of the team, with the other try-outers out at the Quidditch pitch after your last class tonight. Keanu will give me the lay down of your performance and we'll decide before the first practice next week."  
  
"See you later, Timothy!" Keanu shouted, following Professor Miller down the hall, leaving Timothy to stand alone with his new broom. He ripped open a corner of the box just enough to see the golden letters, Dragonsfire 800, engraved on the handle. Sighing contently at his fortune of actually trying out for the Gryffindor team, he began to walk to his first class.  
  
Timothy was in such a daze that he didn't realize that he had walked into the wrong room until he nearly ran into a wall. Shaking his head in surprise, he looked up to see that the wall was completely covered in awards. Stepping back a few steps, his jaw dropped to see himself completely surrounded by glittering, gold and silver medals, cups, plaques, and ribbons. The largest of all the plaques was hung near the door, and Timothy stepped back further to read it.  
  
The Trophy ROOM  
Most of Hogwart's most prestigious awards were saved in the great fire that burned the original castle to the ground.  
They date back to the original castle's founding over 1,000 years ago.  
This room is dedicated to Professor Minerva McGonagall for her bravery in her attempt to save the contents of this room in the great fire.  
Her memory will forever be reflected in the gleams of accomplishment these awards show.  
  
Looking around him, Timothy saw every award imaginable. In one case, held all the Quidditch House Cups, which he stared at for a very long time. His eyes wandered to the one his father helped win for Gryffindor, and he goggled at it for what seemed like forever… imagining the House Cup he could help win being placed beside his father's.  
  
Movement out of the corner of his eye, made Timothy look over to another cabinet where a rather large trophy was displayed. He realized, that this cabinet was the largest and most predominant display in the room, as he went to look inside. His jaw dropped when he saw what it contained.  
  
Next to the largest trophy he had ever seen, was a photograph of his parents. They were waving at him happily, arm in arm, and still managing to look like the professional aurors that they are. A large plaque above the whole thing read:  
  
In honor of harry and Renee potter  
The existence of the castle today would never have been possible if it weren't for the two most powerful magical people in the world. Harry Potter's story is a historical one, and along with his Etam Luos, Renee, these powerful people destroyed the most evil of evil for the benefit of the world. They risked their lives and we are forever in their debt.  
  
Timothy stared at the ribbons and cups and trophies from not only the magical community of Britain, but from the entire world. There was even a special one from Florida that was sent to his mother. He looked back up at the photograph of his parents, who were smiling at him broadly, and his heart groaned slightly as he realized just how much he missed them.  
  
"What are you doing in here?!" Snapped a groggy voice.  
  
Timothy whipped around to see Mr. Peters, the janitor, glaring at him with a mop in hand from the door.  
  
"I said, what are you doing in here? You're supposed to be in class!" He growled.  
  
"Er… I just got lost." Timothy muttered, feeling himself go red.  
  
"Lost? Haven't you learned your way around the castle by now?" Mr. Peters stride over to face him, a long finger waving in front of Timothy's nose. His eyes were narrowed at him, and Timothy instinctually drew back.  
  
"You're that Potter boy, aren't you?" He accused slowly. "Think because you're famous that you can just wander around the castle as you please?"  
  
"Uhh…" Timothy broke out into a sweat. Mr. Peters snorted at him, and glanced at the cabinet that held his parent's awards and trophies.  
  
"Yes… your folks are a fine pair of wizards if I've ever known of some. No denying what they've done for the world, I am, but I know what you're thinking. Think because of what they've done, that makes you special and above us all! Well, I've got news for you, boy… it doesn't. You have nothing to claim that's worthy of admiration except your name. And believe me, that's nothing worth getting all worked up over."  
  
"But I-…"  
  
"You're just as ordinary as the next wizard, if you ask me. Won't find me gawking at you just because of what you are. You're nothing."  
  
Timothy just stared as Mr. Peters snarled and sauntered over back to the door. His brain was numb with what was just thrown at him, his eyes wide. Mr. Peters turned and barked:  
  
"Well, get to class! Won't find me giving you special treatment… you're just as much a slacker as the next boy. Now… get!"  
  
With his broom held close to his backside, Timothy nearly ran out past Mr. Peters and out the door, trying hard not to run down the corridor.  
  
When he got to class, potions, it had been running for nearly fifteen minutes. Timothy lost five points for Gryffindor, but he was too preoccupied with what had just happened to care. Both Darian and John eyed his long package with interest, but Timothy just shoved it under the table and began to absentmindedly write down notes.  
  
After class, Timothy wanted nothing more than to be alone. Despite shocked faces from Darian and John, he ran up to Gryffindor tower. Panting heavily, he lightly dropped the package containing his broom and doubled over in front of Hagrid's portrait, who was looking at him with concern.  
  
"Whas' up, Timothy? Some'ting wrong?"  
  
Timothy shook his head.  
  
"Corn-… Cornish pixies!"  
  
Hesitating slightly, Hagrid swung forward and Timothy picked up his broom and climbed inside. He went straight for his dorm and then tossed his broom on his bed before falling on it himself.  
  
"Why me?" He muttered to his pillow. "Why do I have to have famous parents? Mr. Peters was right! I am nothing. Just because of what my parents did is why I'm famous. I've done nothing worth noting. All I'm good at is Quidditch, and only because my dad taught me everything. He knew nothing when he first mounted a broom. I'm no more special than that Luna girl."  
  
A single tear slid down his cheek and splashed on his pillow. He felt ashamed. Not wanting to face his parents with his feelings. The only person Timothy felt he could talk to was his best friend, Jeff. But Jeff was back home, and Jefforagons can't write letters.  
  
Timothy tried hard to pretend that he was back home, in his room. The sounds of his parents in the living room. His sister laughing in her bedroom next door. And Jeff, his best friend since he was five years old, climbing onto his back and nipping at Timothy's kicking feet playfully.  
  
He was pretending so hard, he could just feel Jeff that instant. Climbing his back and puffing loudly, as he usually did when he would lecture Timothy over something silly. Timothy sighed, and let another tear roll down his face.  
  
"Oh, Jeff. I'm not special."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, of course you're special! I mean, who else at Hogwarts owns a talking dragon?"  
  
"Well, yes… but-…" Timothy's eyes widened, and he whipped around onto his back to just catch a glimpse of something yellow go flying with a thud on the floor.  
  
"Hey! What gives?! That hurt, wild one!" A yellow claw reached up to grab the end of the bed.  
  
"Jeff?!" Timothy squeaked incredulously.  
  
"No, it's Santa Claus." The voice said sarcastically. "Of course it's me!"  
  
Timothy reached a hand over the side of his bed to, sure enough, pull up the small yellow dragon.  
  
"I can't believe it! It really is you! I thought I was dreaming." He cried happily, pulling Jeff into a careful hug, to avoid his spines.  
  
"As much as I… as I… well, as much as I look up to your sister… I've had way too many tea parties and dress-up sessions to last me a lifetime. So, I figured I'd hitch the next broom to Hogsmeade. I found my way here from there."  
  
"But… how? How'd you get past mum and dad?" Timothy asked.  
  
"Oh, your dad was way too busy chatting with your mother about how great the Gryffindor Quidditch team will be this year with you on it. I got as much attention from them as the door mat. So, it'll be a while before they even notice I'm gone."  
  
"But Kalina will surely know." Timothy mentioned.  
  
"Let's just say I paid her enough Chocolate Frogs to put me into debt until die. She won't say a thing until she eats them all." Jeff climbed to the foot of the bed to eye the broom's package.   
  
"I see you've gotten your broom. Ready for the first practice?"  
  
Timothy sighed, his despair returning.  
  
"I have to try-out first. The rule about first-years not being able to play and own a broom has been abolished, and to make it fair, others are being invited to practice as well."  
  
"Don't worry, then. You'll blow everyone off their brooms before they can even mount. Your place on the team is in the bag." Jeff waved a casual claw, yawning.  
  
"I'm not too sure," Timothy whispered, looking away. As Jeff let out a snort, Timothy's gaze met his clock on his bedside table. He was ten minutes late to his next class! "Oh, no! Jeff, I'm late for class again!"  
  
"Well you better get your butt in gear then!" Jeff shouted, jumping out of the way.  
  
Timothy grabbed his books and bolted for the door, but stopped and looked back.  
  
"But where are you gonna hide? Dragons are not allowed at Hogwarts, and you're a Jefforagon. If someone sees you…"  
  
"Don't worry about me, I'll manage. Just get yourself to class before you loose too much house points!" Jeff shooed him off, and Timothy slammed the door behind him, bounding down the stairs. As he sprinted into the common room, through the portrait hole (leaving a bewildered Hagrid behind), and down the first corridor, he slammed head-on into someone before he reached his next class.  
  
"OUCH!"  
  
"Oooof!"  
  
Timothy, rubbing his head and fixing his glasses, pulled himself up to see Luna Dine pushing herself off of him. Her face was red and wet from tears, her eyes all glossy and stressed. The look on Luna's face was so surprising that Timothy lost his sudden surge of anger at being knocked down.  
  
"Luna? What's…?"  
  
"I'm s-sorry, Timothy." Luna stood up and ran away down the corridor without a backwards glance.  
  
Completely confused, Timothy got to his feet and persisted to dust himself off. When he deemed himself presentable, remembering just how late he was, Timothy started to brake into another run before nearly bumping into someone else.  
  
"Potter! What are you doing out of class?"  
  
Timothy gulped. It was Taku Smith, and he was leering down at Timothy with such loathing that he felt as if Taku's eyes would sport laser beams and sizzle him to death.   
  
"Oh, Smith! I'm sorry, I lost track of time, I'm on my way there now." Timothy's voice squeaked in a pitch that was higher than normal.  
  
Taku leaned over and his mouth began to sneer in response, Timothy cringing, before Taku's eyes narrowed with thought. He leaned back and his face grew calmer, and he closed his eyes.  
  
"Get yourself to class, Potter. Now." He said with a forced calm that was not his own.  
  
Eyes wide with disbelief, Timothy nodded and dashed into History Of Magic. The professor, Professor Jackson, was the Slytherin Head of House. Naturally, Timothy would have his class with the Slytherins, so it was only natural as the class laid eyes on him when he burst into class that they would laugh at him. Most notably, Carla and Sean Haughton, who snickered the loudest.  
  
"That's enough." Professor Jackson seethed. "Mr. Potter, where have you been? Class started ten minutes ago."  
  
"Er… well, I…" Timothy stuttered as he inched over to Darian and John, both looking at him sympathetically. He searched his brain quickly for a more believable response then just, "I was wallowing in denial and self-conflict and just lost track of time."  
  
"Taku Smith stopped me, sir." He said.  
  
Professor Jackson, with his impressive stature and slick brown hair, raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Oh? What for? He's a Prefect, he should have known you belonged in class."  
  
Timothy's heart was racing.  
  
"Quidditch. About practice, this afternoon. How… how I was not to overpower the other first-years." He replied quickly.  
  
Professor Jackson stared at him skeptically. However, he looked away with a look of concentration… as if deliberating with himself over something. After a moment, he shrugged and looked back at Timothy.  
  
"Let this be a warning to you, Mr. Potter. I won't take points this time, but if this happens again, I will. Understood?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Timothy nodded. He sat down like a dead weight next to Darian, stared momentarily straight ahead, then dropped his head heavily onto the desk… making both Darian and John jump.  
  
"Umm… Timothy?" Darian whispered into his ear, cautiously. "Is there… is there something, umm… wrong?"  
  
Timothy didn't move, his nose crumpled under the weight of his head flat on the desk. Darian sighed and returned back to copying notes from the board. John, however, simply stared at Timothy with solemnity.  
  
A/N: ::Cringes:: Well, what do you think? Again, that stupid fic with Harry becoming a potter was the result of too much turkey. However, there was enormous feed-back over it (showing the fact that review alerts are working), most of them positive. I was very, very, VERY, ready to delete that thing once my sanity returned... so, should I? I think I should...  
Anywho, I'm now really excited for Timothy's story. It's all coming into play now, plus that shocking thing I'm promising (which even shell-shocked my mom!) for the next chapter. If it's too dragged out (which almost all of you said it's not) it'll really pick up now! If it hasn't already. I think it has.  
So, Canadians think Americans are funny, aragog? LOL, I think we're funny too... but if I hear my parents bicker about Republicans and Democrats (mom is a D and dad is a R) again I'll knaw my hand off. The local radio station wanted to call Paris and ask the French what they thought of the American elections. That would be funny to hear. ::Sighs:: Maybe I should go on a trip to Europe until they elect a president, or until my funky monkey state makes up it's mind over votes and just announces anyone at this point! Go Florida, woohoo! We're so special now! Or stupid, but my vote didn't count so don't blame me. AHHH! My infamous rambling has ensued! I shall stop now, for the looks on your faces right now are about to fall off with boredom. Well, you can turn that boredom into effective boredom by WRITING A REVIEW! Then, once through with that, you can CLICK ON OVER TO http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com WHICH HAS BEEN UPDATED WITH NEW ART AND STUFF! It's updated nearly everyday as a matter o fact... so BOOKMARK IT! HAHAH! I'm hot, my computer is cooking my room... plus my dog is biting my shoe. Hmm... not pleasent. ::skips on over to word processor to start chapter 7::  
~Orca (the now sane) Potter 


	7. The Darkest Night

A/N: Prepare yourselves, this chapter is a shocker! It's actually an important part of the plot, which is turning into a full-length novel. I'm expecting this story to be my longest ever- for at this point, DtD is now 100 pages long! It's amazing how I managed to write this up, put up Christmas decorations, draw, and study for the SAT at the same time! Wish me luck, come 7:30 AM I'll be trapped in a cafeteria for.. oh.. FIVE HOURS on Saturday. All of you 11th grade and below have something to look forward to ::evil grin::.  
Well then, I won't keep you any longer... this is a great chapter, in my opinion, and I've really toned my writing skills... at least I think so. Enojy, and DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!  
DISCLAIMER: No, I did not kiddnap J.K. and do not have her tied to my computer chair, forcing her to write THIS story. What I DID kiddnap is the name Potter... and anything else she came up with. Otherwise, it's all MY doing!  
  
  
Chapter Seven: The Darkest Night  
  
  
Perhaps because of the distant look in Timothy's eyes, or his flat smile, or his unusual silence, others choose not to bother with Timothy for the rest of the afternoon. Darian simply walked beside him, glancing at him every now and then with a worried look. John stayed slightly behind, staring at the floor, but when his gaze met Timothy's, Timothy got the feeling that John knew what the issue was. Nobody had talked about John's secret allergy. John never brought it up again… and Timothy kept his promise never to either. He wasn't too sure about Darian though. Darian had a big mouth, but he seemed to had forgotten about it.  
  
At dinner, Darian was babbling on to Timothy how excited he was. Not more than an hour before then, Professor Mali came to Darian and told him that he was invited to try-out for the Gryffindor team as well. Timothy tried to show congratulations for him, but it was with a forced smile. Darian was too excited to notice Timothy's pained look, he wouldn't even eat. John, on the other hand, ate quietly like usual.  
  
When dinner was over, Darian didn't give Timothy any time to swallow the only bite he had taken before grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the Great Hall.  
  
"I'll come and watch!" John cried out suddenly, making Timothy's eyebrows raise slightly.  
  
Hagrid wished them luck as they entered Gryffindor tower to retrieve Timothy's new broom. In their dorm, Timothy stopped in the doorframe to see both Bran and Bobby polishing brooms themselves.  
  
"Isn't this great?!" Bobby shouted, nodding happily at Darian.  
  
"Worth a shot… to try out, I mean. We all know Timothy's going to make it." Bran said, slapping a hand on Timothy's back as he reached for the package on his bed.  
  
Opening it, the custom-made broom… shiny and never before been used… rolled to hover at the right height for Timothy to mount. There was a unanimous gasp as the golden letters, Dragonsfire 800, gleamed in the dwindling sunlight straining into the room. His eyes sweeping the long handle, custom-designed for his grasp, Timothy couldn't help to loose himself in it's bliss. There wasn't a closed jaw in the whole room.  
  
"You. Are. The. Luckiest. Boy. I. Know." Bran said, looking at the broom longingly, and glancing at his own with distaste.  
  
"Bet your dad has the same one, huh?" Bobby whispered, touching one of the birch twigs with caution.   
  
"He has a Dragonsfire 550. Mum won't let him buy another broom for a while, I'm not even sure she knows I have this." Timothy said, finally taking the broom in his grasp and slinging it over his shoulder. He could have sworn it made a metallic hum in his ear as if it held immense power… which it actually did, for a broom.  
  
Darian looked, for the first time in hours, glum.  
  
"What's wrong?" Timothy asked as they left the dorm, both Bran and Bobby following.  
  
Darian shrugged and shoved his hands in his robe pockets.  
  
"I don't even have a broom. How can I be on the team without one?"  
  
"Well, if… if you make the team, your mum will buy you one. Or your dad, even."  
  
"Not sure we could afford it. I mean, we're not poor, but we can't afford anything that could match or surpass anything you own." Darian muttered.  
  
Timothy opened his mouth to say something, but figured it best not to. There was no use arguing, he didn't have the mind to at that moment. Things were playing through his mind that was making him more and more confused. So much so, that he didn't even acknowledge Hagrid when he wished them luck again when they left the tower.  
  
Prove that you can do something, Timothy. Fly like you've never flown before! Show them what you're capable of, use what your father has taught you! Said one voice.  
  
Don't be stupid, Timothy! You show off… people will hate you for doing so. No one wants to be friends with someone who tries to be someone your not. Might as well save yourself the grief and just back out. Your father got on the team for being a natural and not knowing. If you make it, it will only be because of him… not for what you can do. Another voice taunted him.  
  
The arguments in his head were so preoccupying, that he nearly trampled someone.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry." He sputtered, throwing his arms up in surprise.  
  
He had nearly stepped on Luna Dine once more. Timothy sighed, heartily annoyed by his constant collisions with this small Hufflepuff. Darian, Bran, and Bobby were looking over his shoulder, stifling giggles.  
  
"Timothy!" Luna shrieked. But instead of her usual expression of eternal apology and embarrassment, her eyes were wide with fear. She stumbled backwards from him as if he were dangerous, bringing her hands up to cover her mouth.  
  
"Luna, it's alrig-…" Timothy began, but Luna simply shook her head vigorously, beginning to cry, and ran off in the opposite direction.  
  
"What was that about?" Bran asked, nudging for Timothy to move on.  
  
Timothy shook his head, as Darian jumped beside him, his excitement having returned.  
  
"Oh, that little Hufflepuff just has a crush on him, that's all." He teased, making Timothy go red.  
  
"Really?" Bobby chimed.  
  
"No!" Timothy shouted. He then put on his most determined face and marched down the main stairwell and out of the castle, his friends giggling and following.  
  
The Quidditch pitch was illuminated magically, so bright that Timothy squinted as he entered the field. It was the first time he had seen it, and it was just as impressive as his father had described. His friends were all shell-shocked at the sight, and Timothy smiled for the first time since that morning. A small group of older students stood with Professor Miller and Professor Mali in the middle of the field. Glancing over the immense array of bleachers, Timothy could just make out John… and his Uncle Lupin. His heart skipped a beat.  
  
"Uncle Lupin is here?" He blurted out before realizing it.  
  
"Uncle Lupin?" Both Bran and Bobby inquired.  
  
"Uhh…" Timothy moaned stupidly, before Darian saved him.  
  
"Look, they're ready for us, let's hurry up!"  
  
Grabbing Timothy's arm, they jogged over to the small group of waiting people. When they came clearer into Timothy's vision, he first saw a beaming Keanu Nole. He smiled back and nodded to the other players, before he laid eyes on the last and seventh one. Timothy could have died on the spot.  
  
Taku Smith. Smiling evilly and nodding with suspicious knowing.  
  
"Ah, finally. Let's get this over with, shall we?" Taku said coolly. The other team members, including Keanu, rolled their eyes and crossed their arms.  
  
"B'duhh…" Timothy gasped incoherently. Darian simply grimaced and both Bran and Bobby looked white as ghosts.  
  
"I'm sure you're all excited, but let me first introduce the rest of the team." Professor Miller said, unaware of the dangerous air. "Timothy, you've met Keanu Nole… but of course, the others haven't, so, everyone, this is Keanu Nole and he's the team captain and seeker. Our two chasers are Pena Nole and Jane Neeks. The best keeper in the world just so happens to be this fine young man, Albus Moran. And, last but not least, our two beaters… Seamore Walters and Taku Smith."  
  
The other beater, Seamore Walters, looked very ruffled and did not seem to want to be there. Both adults and Keanu looked troubled as Taku's name was mentioned. Timothy suddenly had a sinking feeling that he knew why the team was having problems.   
  
"Alright then, let's go." Taku muttered, crossing his arms.  
  
Professor Miller sighed deeply and nodded with a defeated look. Professor Mali stepped forward to Timothy, Darian, Bran, and Bobby.  
  
"Now, does everyone here know how to play Quidditch at least?"  
  
Everyone nodded, the mood lightening slightly.  
  
"Well, that was a dumb question… but it would have been dangerous to send you up in a mock game without knowing the rules. Anyway, the team and Professor Miller will watch from the stands. When I release the balls, I'll blow the whistle and you can start. The position is for a Chaser, so all of you will be going after a Quaffle. The team will then choose the better player… not just for skills, but for sportsmanship and the like. Understood?"  
  
Again, everyone nodded, filling with determination.  
  
"Right then, mount your brooms." Professor Mali handed Darian a broom and he thanked her quietly as they spread out and mounted. Despite all the doubts he was having earlier, Timothy was once again in his element and he felt calmer than he had all afternoon. However, just as he was grinning to himself, he glanced over at the stands… only to see Taku Smith looking directly at him, his arms still crossed. The smug, knowing face Taku was throwing at him made Timothy swallow hard. Then, suddenly, Professor Mali's whistle blew, and he snapped back just in time to follow the others into the air.  
  
There were more Quaffles than usual since it was only the try-outs. They simply had to show how good they were at scoring goals. Naturally, Timothy's dream was on being a Seeker… but the team already had one. His father had taught him the highlights of every position, but mainly that of Seeker… since he was one. Despite it all, Timothy took every ounce of energy he possessed at that moment and forced it all to focus on what he was doing. Balls and players whizzed by his face, but he spotted a lone Quaffle and a clear lead well within reach. It was at that moment that he realized that he hadn't even flown a Dragonsfire 800 before and was not used to it.  
  
"Woooooooaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh! Oh. My. Gosh! This is swwwwwweeeeeeeeettttttt!" He wailed as he leaned forward on his new broom, which had instantly rocked from 10 MPH to about 60 in 1 second! Before he knew it, Timothy was on top of the Quaffle and whacked it clear into one of the three fifty-foot high goal post hoops.  
  
Darian stopped dead with another Quaffle and stared with awe. Bobby nearly knocked himself into one of the goal posts, his eyes locked on the Dragonsfire. Bran, however, made quite a spectacular goal himself, after doing a loop-de-loop and a spiral hit.  
  
For the next twenty minutes, they soared above the Quidditch field, making goal after goal. Timothy's performance was anything less than amazing… particularly with his new professional broom. Then, Professor Mali allowed the number of balls to dwindle, until before long only one Quaffle was left. It hovered silently in the air before everyone put their brooms into top speed. For Timothy, top speed was 200 MPH in less than 10 seconds.  
  
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!" He couldn't help but cry as the wind began to tear his face back, strain his glasses (threatening to blow them off), and blur his vision. Timothy didn't even realize he was holding the Quaffle until he nearly went through the goal post himself. Pulling back on his broom, it stopped dead, and Timothy nearly fell completely face-forward to the ground before righting himself just in time to make the goal.  
  
The whistle blew, and Professor Mali motioned for them all to land.  
  
"Excellent! A wonderful performance from all of you! My, this is going to be a hard decision for the team, I'm sure. They're all going to go into the locker room right now and make their choice. All of you can wait in the stands until they come out with the name they want on the team." She shepherded them up to the bleachers, where, waiting for Timothy, was Lupin. John was there as well, and waved to him and Darian as they approached.  
  
"Great job, Timothy!" Lupin beamed, pulling Timothy into a hug.  
  
Panting, Timothy smiled and fixed his glasses.  
  
"If only your father could have seen that, I'm sure he'll be ecstatic just to hear about it! And, as much as she'd hide it, your mother will sure be happy. She's a good flyer too, you know." Lupin smiled.  
  
"I thought mum told you to make sure I didn't… er… highlight my abilities." Timothy cocked his head, grinning.  
  
Lupin blushed slightly, and nodded with a thoughtful expression.  
  
"Emm, yes, she did. But, I've come to realize that it's not really my place to tell you what to do with your talents. If you want to show how good you really are, by all means, be my guest. It's your choices, however, that makes you who you are, though. Think things through before you act, just a little advice, that's all."  
  
"You were also excellent as well, Darian." Lupin called over his shoulder to Darian, who was chatting happily with a quite John.  
  
"Thank you, Professor!" Darian cried, a smile so large it split his whole face.  
  
Timothy was high with excitement and the rush of adrenaline remained pumping through him. Lupin ruffled his hair much the same way his father did, and motioned for him to sit down beside him. But Timothy couldn't sit still, all his troubles were forgotten. It didn't matter anymore and he didn't care. He did what he was best at… and if it was the same thing his father was also best at too, well then so be it.  
  
"How long is it going to take for them to decide?" He asked Lupin.  
  
He shrugged.  
  
"They can be out at any minute or be in there all night. I tell 'yeh though, all of you were very impressive. It won't be easy to come to a quick decision."  
  
Inpatients came quickly to Timothy, and he practically bounced in his seat, wanting the team to come out at that moment. His eyes wandered everywhere; Bobby and Bran were conversing with a mix of happiness and nerves down towards the field. Darian was demonstrating the proper way to hold a broom to John, who was looking at it distastefully. His Uncle Lupin seemed lost in thought, perhaps caught up in a long forgotten memory. Timothy gripped his wonderful broom tight with apprehension. When will he know?  
  
After an hour, however, Timothy's energy was drained by the wait. Lupin looked about ready to fall off to sleep, his chin resting on his fist. Darian had long since stopped trying to convince John about the joys of flying a broom, and busied himself with boring the minds out of Bran and Bobby… who looked dead with exhaustion. Timothy was now sitting quiet and still, his eyes locked on the doors to the locker rooms.  
  
Any minute now, any minute… He chorused in his mind.  
  
"Alright?"  
  
Timothy jumped and turned to see John sitting beside him. He smiled slowly at him, and Timothy smiled wearily back.  
  
"Yeah," Timothy answered quietly, turning to look back at the doors. "I just can't wait to hear their decision."  
  
"I understand," John nodded, turning to look with Timothy. "Can't imagine how you must be feeling right now."  
  
A chilled wind blew through their hair, and Timothy realized just how late it was. Beyond the still bright lights of the Quidditch field, the sky was as black as slate. When he glanced back over at John, his brown hair blowing messily with the wind, Timothy sensed something from him… but wasn't quite sure what. When John turned to look at him, Timothy returned his gaze to the locker room doors… which opened!  
  
"Here they come!" Timothy couldn't stop himself from shouting.  
  
Lupin was shook abruptly from his stupor, Darian leapt to life and bounded onto the field to stand with Bobby and Bran. Timothy ran to join them, Lupin and John trailing slowly behind.  
  
As Timothy stared at the oncoming team members, his face fell slightly at the sight of all of their disgruntled and heated faces. The only one, the last member of the team to leave the locker room, held a triumphant face. Taku Smith was practically bouncing on his heels. Timothy tried not to let that fool him.  
  
Professor Miller finally came out of the locker room, and ran to catch up with the team, who had positioned themselves in front of the four possible Chasers. Each team member, with the exception of Smith, looked outraged and worn. Timothy looked at them each in turn, a pit developing once again in his stomach.  
  
When he reached Professor Mali, Professor Miller whispered (what Timothy assumed was the new Chaser's name) into her ear. At first she looked at him with disbelief, then with what was unmistakably anger. She turned to glare momentarily at Taku Smith, who grinned back at her, then her face fell… and she seemingly forced it into a smile as she turned to face Timothy and the others.  
  
"The team has come to a decision. I'm sure it was a really, really, really close call. However, despite all of your fantastic and worthy skills… only one player can be chosen. It is now my duty to announce that the team has chosen Bran Acott as their new Chaser."  
  
Timothy tried with all his might to withhold his immense disappointment. Tried with all the energy he still possessed to stand tall. Tried… tried not to cry.  
  
"Really?" Bran gasped, stumbling forward as Keanu (somewhat dejectedly) shook his hand, followed by the rest of the team. When Taku Smith took his hand, Taku did not look at Bran… but instead looked shrewdly at Timothy. Timothy looked away quickly, and felt a large and comforting hand fall on his shoulder.  
  
"Come on, Timothy. Let's go warm up a bit…" Lupin muttered, his voice dark.  
  
Timothy allowed himself to be steered around, and he just glanced John, who was looking deeply apologetic at him. Darian looked crushed, and with a last look at Timothy, John took Darian's shoulder and walked him behind Timothy and Lupin.  
  
Once free of the lights from the Quidditch field, the night enveloped them all in darkness. It was the darkest night Timothy had ever seen… and the shadows the castle windows threw on the grounds seemed to mock him… laughing at the darkest thoughts that plagued his mind. Never before had Timothy felt as defeated as he did at that moment. How disappointed his father would be… his mother's sagged shoulders. His sister would simply be confused, convinced that her brother could do anything. Now he'll be looked upon as a famous loser. Good for nothing… only recognized by how he looked and his name. Timothy felt that if he failed at Quidditch, the one thing he was truly good at, he couldn't do anything.  
  
Staring at his shoes, Lupin still guiding his shoulders, they stepped into the castle. Lupin sent Darian and John to bed, John nodding in agreement and taking the also sulking Darian, upstairs. Timothy only glanced up to see Lupin's deeply concerned and most fatherly face looking down at him kindly.  
  
"I have some cocoa in my office, I believe. We can relax there, come on."  
  
And he took Timothy's hand, leading him up some stairs and into his large office. He flicked his wand, lighting some candles, and led Timothy to an extra-large armchair. With another wave of his wand at the fire, a kettle and some mugs appeared. Lupin poured them some cocoa and handed a mug to Timothy, he simply stared at it blankly.  
  
It was as if he wasn't there. Timothy was only remotely aware that Lupin was considering him carefully. For the longest time, there was silence. Timothy didn't move, he never felt so low.  
  
"I know what you're feeling."  
  
Timothy looked up slowly with his dead face.  
  
"Completely, and utterly horrible. Defeated, and feeling as if you can never do anything again. And, I'm sure, afraid of what your father will say when he finds out." Lupin spoke for him.  
  
Timothy looked back down at his feet, nodding ever so slightly.  
  
"It's not true, you know. You were the best player out there, and you know the reason why you weren't chosen."  
  
"You're just saying that." Timothy whispered.  
  
Lupin was quiet a moment.  
  
"No," He said quietly, smiling. "I'm not. You saw the looks on those player's faces. They were upset… obviously their decision wasn't entirely unanimous. It has to be, you know. In Quidditch, when choosing a player, the vote must be unanimous. There was at least one player who differed the vote.  
  
"You know that you are good enough, Timothy. You played the best you could possibly do. It was because of the immaturity of one individual that you didn't make it. It's not fair, but unfortunately you have to deal with it."  
  
"Everyone expects me to be like my parents… but I'm not. I haven't done anything as great as they have! How could I possibly live up to what they've done? I'm only famous because of my name. Quidditch is… was… the only thing I could do. Now I haven't even lived up to that… Dad got on the team at eleven." Timothy said suddenly, fighting tears.  
  
Lupin's smile was gone, and he looked away with a frown. He seemed, again, lost in thought… and nothing was said for a while. Timothy felt himself slipping back to succumb to that voice… the voice that told him how worthless he really was.  
  
You're a nobody, Timothy. A nobody… and you forever will be. You're good for nothing.  
  
"You're family has been cheated, severely." Lupin muttered, almost bitterly, breaking Timothy from his gloom. "First your grandparents… killed so young. Your father's family ripped from him… being forced to live with people who thought he was as good as dirt. Living in a cupboard half his life. Then to deal with sudden fame for something he couldn't remember, and forced to face the most evil of evil alone when he was only your age. Your mother was the best thing to happen to him, she was… and though she most likely doesn't regret it, she was thrown into sudden struggle along with your father. She lost her brother, your uncle and namesake. But you came along, and you made their lives a hundred times more happier than ever before. You are something special, just like your parents. And, just like your parents, you have unfair hardships too. Unfortunately, all because of them. It's all about being a Potter, I suppose.  
  
"But know this, Timothy. You are who you want to be. No one, not even your parents, can tell you who you ought to be and what you should do with your life. It's your choice. It doesn't matter what everyone else says, but what you say. You are not your parents… you are your parent's son, and that makes you capable of anything."  
  
Timothy stared at his Uncle Lupin for a long time, his words hitting his heart. Perhaps he was right. He most likely was.  
  
"Time for bed. Things will be alright in the morning, just you see." Lupin stood up.  
  
Timothy staggered to his feet, and walked to the door, but stopped with his hand on the handle. He looked back at Lupin.  
  
"You… you aren't going to tell dad… are you?" He whispered sheepishly.  
  
Lupin smiled and sighed.  
  
"No, but I will if you want me to."  
  
Timothy thought a moment, his mind going slow as if drenched in sludge.   
  
"Perhaps… perhaps, I should tell him?"  
  
Lupin nodded, as if he said the right answer in class.  
  
"Maybe that's a good idea."  
  
  
Timothy did wake up the following morning feeling better. Looking out the window, it was as if he was given a new chance at proving his worth. Darian, on the other hand, looked as depressed as ever. John was his usual quiet self, and convinced Darian to get out of bed. Timothy was sure he would get some attention for losing the position, but figured most of it would be focused on Bran. That made him feel better, somehow, he didn't want to think about the things that had ran through his mind the night before.  
  
How wrong he was.  
  
To put it simply, the whole school was in shock and disbelief. He was greeted in the common room with a flutter of confused questions as soon as he was seen.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Why didn't you make the team, Timothy?  
  
"I would have thought you would of made it."  
  
"Are you ill, is that why?"  
  
"I heard that you were knocked off your broom by a giant bat, is that true?"  
  
"Your dad made it when he was in his first year, why didn't you?"  
  
The last question hit him like a brick, bringing dread back upon him. John, who had been trying desperately to pull both Timothy and Darian out of the common room, now took advantage of his larger stature and forced their way out through the crowd. They stumbled out behind the portrait of Hagrid, who looked down at Timothy with sympathy and concern.  
  
"'Jus 'eard the news." He muttered. "So sorry, Tim'thy. Bet'er luck next year, then?"  
  
All Timothy managed was a comprehending moan, while John took him roughly by the arm and dragged him down the corridor. Darian sulked behind them.  
  
Every soul they past turned to look disbelieving at Timothy.  
  
News travels fast, doesn't it? Timothy asked himself.  
  
John didn't give Timothy time to see more than the frowns every student shot at him. Darian was not so much as blinked at, and it perhaps made him appear to feel worse.  
  
"Let's eat outside today," John ordered more than suggested. "I'll get us something to eat."  
  
And so he left them sitting on the steps leading to the main doors. Darian didn't say a word, he was lost in his own world. Timothy tried his best to cheer up, and did so by trying to cheer up Darian.  
  
"Well, there's always next year, Darian." He said, trying to lift his voice.  
  
"Easy for you to say, if you didn't make it this year, you're more than guaranteed to make it next year." Darian smirked sadly.  
  
Timothy opened his mouth to countermand him, but it was no use, it would just make him feel worse. Instead, he sighed heavily and thought of how it would be like at home if he were there. Shuddering slightly, Timothy couldn't bear to think how his father would look like… or any of his family members for that matter. The only one who would understand would be… Jeff!  
  
"Oh, where's Jeff?! I didn't see him last night!" He shouted without thinking.  
  
"Who?" Darian asked, distantly.  
  
Timothy hesitated, biting his lip and cursing himself for yelling his thoughts aloud. If anyone knew Jeff was at Hogwarts, Jeff would be found and… well, Timothy didn't know what would happen… but it wouldn't be good.  
  
"Oh… uh, this guy I know, that's all."  
  
Darian shrugged and returned to his sulking blank stare, while Timothy got to his feet.  
  
I would have seen him last night if he was in the dorm or the common room. He's smart enough to know not to hang out in the castle. Where else would a Jefforagon go? Timothy thought to himself.  
  
His eyes swept the castle grounds uselessly, until they fell upon the outskirts of the Forbidden Forrest. Timothy suddenly got a wild, yet plausible idea.  
  
"I'll be right back," He said suddenly, already walking briskly in the direction of the forest. "Tell John to eat without me."  
  
Darian looked up, frowning.  
  
"Where are you going? Classes will start soon."  
  
"Just for a walk, that's all." Timothy called over his shoulder.  
  
Darian stared at him, considering something, and got up himself.  
  
"I'll come with you." He said to Timothy, running to catch up.  
  
Timothy stopped and looked back at him, worriedly.  
  
"Er… perhaps that's not a good idea. I mean, who'll tell John where I've gone?"  
  
Narrowing his eyes, Darian pointed a suspicious finger at him.  
  
"I dunno about you, Timothy. You sure keep a lot of secrets from us. I mean, come on, I thought we were friends. You're keeping something from us again, aren't you?"  
  
"Sorry," Timothy muttered sheepishly. "I'm sorry and you're right. You guys are my friends and there shouldn't be anything kept from each other. It's just that… it's just that another one of my friends could be in trouble. If anyone finds him, something bad will happen to him."  
  
Darian's old energetic smile returned.  
  
"A friend of yours is a friend of mine, and I'm sure John will be the same way. You needn't worry about us, we'll support you and your friend all the way. Just tell me what to do and I'll do my best to help."  
  
Timothy smiled back, relieved.   
  
"Hey guys! What are you doing over there?"  
  
John came jogging up to meet them, toast in his hands. He was so tall, it looked like a giraffe was bounding across the grass, his shaggy hair blowing in his wake.  
  
"I need you and Darian to help me, John. Another friend of mine is missing and could be in trouble. I think he may be hiding in the Forbidden Forest. Can you help me find him?" Timothy asked, hopefully.   
  
"Forbidden Forest?" John looked down at him, worriedly. "I dunno, Timothy. As much as I'd be willing to help…"  
  
"Oh, for crying out loud, John! Help us and don't be such a wuss!" Darian cried, exasperated.  
  
John blushed.  
  
"We'll be late for class." He muttered, but in an agreeing tone.  
  
Timothy beamed at them both.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
"By the way, Timothy," Darian asked at his side as they walked quickly to the forest's edge. "What does your friend look like?"  
  
"Er…" Timothy hesitated again. But looking at his friends, both of them looking at him with sincerity, he felt confident that he no longer had to hide anything from them anymore. "Well, his name is Jeff… to begin with. And he's… a little short. He has a big mouth, likes to breathe fire a lot. Um, and he has a bad temper."  
  
"Sounds like my Aunt Darla." John muttered, hands in his pockets.  
  
"Breathes fire?" Darian asked skeptically. "What does he have, severe heartburn?"  
  
"I guess you can say that." Timothy tried to stifle a laugh.  
  
They came to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, which looked dark and ominous from where they stood. Each of them exchanged glances.  
  
"Well, er, after you, I guess." John said, overly bright.  
  
"Umm…"  
  
"Maybe if we just call out his name, no kid here is stupid enough to go in to the forest." Darian said. Timothy blushed.  
  
"Well, he's not exactly a kid."  
  
John and Darian turned to him.  
  
"What do you mean, he's not exactly a kid?"  
  
"Er… he's sorta… different."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Well, he's yellow, for starters."  
  
"Yellow?"  
  
"And he has scales… pointy ones."  
  
"Scales?"  
  
"And a long tail with purple tentacle thingies on the end that can grab things."  
  
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're describing…"  
  
"A dragon." John finished Darian's last sentence. They both broke out into laughter.  
  
"You're pulling our leg, Timothy! You mean to tell us you have a dragon for a friend?" Darian shouted, doubling over.  
  
"I am!" Timothy felt himself grow redder, his face annoyed.  
  
"I think the loss of the Chaser position went to your head harder than I thought." John snorted.  
  
"Fine then! Don't believe me! I'll find him by myself like I was going to do before!" And Timothy stomped off, leaving his two friends giggling still in the grass.  
  
"Timothy!"  
  
"Oh, shut up!" Timothy growled.  
  
"Hey, excuse me for living! I'm just a 'lil 'ol dragon, don't mind me."  
  
"Jeff?" Timothy muttered, turning to a bush that was quivering at the edge of a tree.  
  
"No, I am the great bush of Hogwarts and I have come to speak to you with a deep voice just to see what happens. For crying out loud, wild one, do you not recognize my voice anymore? What is this school doing to you?"  
  
Sure enough, parting the bush to see inside, Timothy found Jeff. His tail looked painfully caught in between two small, minute branches.  
  
"What happened?" Timothy asked, reaching down to set him free.  
  
"Well, I got into this argument with a rather rude squirrel…"  
  
"Squirrel?"  
  
"He was not your average squirrel, I'm starting to think this forest is… weird or something. Anyway, this squirrel told me that I was too brightly colored to hang out by the edge of the trees. I told him no, not to diss my handsome color, and he got all spazzed out! Next thing I know, I'm chasing his furry butt into this bush and my tail got caught. Been sitting here all afternoon."  
  
"Timothy, you've really gone mental now! You're talking to a bush!" Darian and John, both still snickering, came striding over to him.  
  
"No, look! I've found him! Jeff's tail is trapped in this bush." Timothy pointed defiantly down at the bush.  
  
Looking at him as if he needed serious psychological help, Darian glanced slowly into the bushed… and yelped, jumping (literally) into John's surprised arms.  
  
"What gives?" John gasped, his tall, yet skinny frame wavering with Darian's bulky weight.   
  
"I can't believe it!" Darian muttered, dropping from John's arms. "You were right, Timothy! Man, I'm sorry!"  
  
"Timothy? Is this… wise?" Jeff cried out worriedly.  
  
"Did… did, umm… did that… dragon, talk?" John stammered.  
  
Now it was Timothy's turn to laugh.  
  
"May I introduce you to my best friend, Jeff. He's a Jefforagon."  
  
"Really?" John's voice was now full of fascination. "I thought they were extinct."  
  
"All but one," Jeff called up. "However, that may change if I DON'T GET MY RUDDY TAIL OUT FROM THIS FREAKING BUSH! Help… help would be a good thing at this moment!"  
  
"Oh, right, sorry!" Timothy wailed, bending down and placing a firm grip around Jeff's tail. He pulled firmly, and Jeff began to moan and blow fire.  
  
"Stop! STOP! It hurts!"  
  
"Maybe we can magic him out?" Darian suggested. "Anyone know a spell for it?"  
  
"Not yet… I'm not aware of anything that could, anyway." John said, his face falling.  
  
"Oh, I am so going to kill that squirrel now!" Jeff wailed.  
  
"What's going on over here? What're you boys doing out of class?"  
  
The ground, Timothy suddenly realized, was shaking. A feeling of something large and intimidating threw a shadow over all three of the boys and Jeff. Slowly, at once, the three of them turned to face someone they had only met face-to-face once before.  
  
A giant of giants, hair covering every inch that was not draped with heavy cloth. Hands the size of a professor's desk, feet twice that size. Their heads craned all the way back to see, what should have been a most ferocious face, but a kind and motherly expression hiding behind shaggy fur.  
  
"You dears will be in some trouble if you don't hurry along to class, now."  
  
Timothy now remembered her from when the three of them had stepped off the train. They had bumped into her, and she kindly steered them to the boats and took them across to Hogwarts. Since then, he had only seen glimpses of something large grace the grounds… but he had never stopped to take a good look.  
  
"Ah, Mr. Potter, I see. Well, you and…?"  
  
"Darian Hall."  
  
"John Stanton."  
  
"Oh, delighted to meet you. I'm Echolocata Whisper. Anyway, you three need to get going."  
  
"Umm…"  
  
"Oh, no." Timothy groaned to himself, sagging, and half-mindedly scuttling to cover the bush. However, from the giant's vantage point, it was a wonder she didn't already see Jeff.  
  
"Something… wrong?"  
  
He jinxed himself, and Timothy didn't even use his wand. Echolocata Whisper, gently, pushed Timothy (his heart stopping) aside and looked down at the bush.  
  
"Oh… my!" Her voice squealed with delight. "Am I right in saying that this little dragon," She took her thumb and index finger, plucked a wide-eyed Jeff's tail from the bush's branches as if it were a splinter, and cradled the shell-shocked dragon in her hairy arms. "Is a Jefforagon?"  
  
Numb with fear for his friend, Timothy fumbled at her feet, straining to see Jeff… but all he could see was a patch of yellow in a sea of hair high above him. John and Darian were standing well away, eyes wide, staring at the giant with awe.  
  
"Please… Ms. Whisper, ma'am, he's my best friend! Or rather… my pet, yes! My pet! I'm sorry, I know he's not allowed at Hogwarts… but he somehow got here… oh please don't sell him or tell the headmaster! If anyone knew…"  
  
"Come, come now, young Potter! Goodness, no! I would never do that! Why, this is a rare treasure that any wizard or witch would die to have! And no creature of this earth should be treated that way. No, no you're friend is safe with me." The giant chuckled, making the trees rattle.  
  
She shifted a little, and to Timothy's (laughing) relief, the giant was stroking the yellow dragon so hard that Jeff's eyes bulged with every stroke. His expression was anything less than deep annoyance and embarrassment. Jeff's eyes drew downward at Timothy, dangerously.  
  
"Make it stop!" The dragon mouthed.   
  
"Can you… can you look after him? For me? While I'm in classes?" Timothy held his hand over his mouth to hide his broad, laughing smile.  
  
"Oh it would be my pleasure!" Whisper chimed, drawing Jeff up with one hand (in which he fit in perfectly like an appetizer) and started to nuzzle his snout flat with her nose.  
  
Jeff's eyes were as large as turkey platters, which instantly narrowed and suddenly flames started to singe the fur of the giant's face.  
  
Timothy cringed horribly, covering his eyes, dreading her reaction. Jeff could be easily tossed aside like a used piece of gum and propelled an easy 200 feet away if she so much as sneezed. Surely having her face set on fire would be enough to annoy the giant into squeezing Jeff like a grape. However, she simply batted away the small flames and laughed.  
  
"Oh, he's adorable!" She squealed.  
  
Timothy felt faint, rolling his eyes.   
  
"I'll keep him in my house for you, on account that you come and visit from time to time." She started to walk off. Timothy, distantly followed by a still awestruck Darian and John, had to run to keep up with the giant's walk.  
  
"Of course! I will!"  
  
"Timothy!" He heard Jeff moan.  
  
The bell could just be heard chiming in the castle, and Timothy stopped dead in his tracks. Darian and John caught up with him.  
  
"We better get to class, but we'll come visit after dinner. Bye Jeff!" Timothy, wearing a satisfied grin, took John and Darian's hands and raced up to the castle.  
  
"Oh, we're going to have some fun, aren't we Jeff?" They could hear Whisper saying.  
  
"TIMOTHY! YOU'RE GONNA GET IT FOR THIS!"  
  
A/N: So... ::looks nervously at screen:: didn't think I would do that to Timothy, did you? ::Ducks blows to the head:: I couldn't make him an EXACT carbon copy of Harry, that would be too predictable. Nope, SURPRISE! Heheh, like I said, it has to do with the plot... which will show it's true colors in chapter 8, I promise you it'll start picking up... I have to! Well, now that I have you fired up... you can REVIEW and head over to Renee's site which I've been telling you is updated NEARLY everyday with stuff from me. Here's the link: http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com. If you can, sign the guestbook. I've been drawing a lot, and thanks to my friend Ashlie, my people-drawing skills has gotten kick-butt BETTER! Hahah! So you can see more of it in the fan art section. AND ALSO, I wrote a little holiday something, I'm sure you'll enjoy it... it's on the front page... go check it out.  
Okies, I'll stop rambling (aren't I good at it, though?) and LET YOU REVIEW and go to Renee's site. ::waves:: Expect chapter 8 next week, peeps.  
::cries, 'cause she has English vocab articles to decifer::  
~OrcaPotter 


	8. Trial and Error

A/N: This is a little shorter than the past chapters, I guess because I wasn't sure what to put before the Christmas chapter began. However, I believe I've fulfilled my promise, and this is where the plot REALLY starts to pick up and they real mystery begins! Praise the Lord, the SATs are done! Sadly, though, after looking at the math part... it's probably certain I'll have to take it again :-(... but no time soon! Man, the holidays brings decorations, presents, chores, and more homework due to some classes ending and final exams! But, writing this is a priority to me... and I worked laboriously on this since Sunday. Please enjoy this and review! I shall leave you to read now.  
DISCLAIMER: I'm sorry, I'm not able to disclaim right now... if you are a silly person (but a real flattering one) and think that I am J.K. and own everything Potter, please hit yourself with the nearest HP book you own after the tone. Thank you. BEEEEP!   
  
  
Chapter Eight: Trial and Error   
  
  
The next week was torture for Timothy. Once over the initial shock of Timothy not making the team, the school went against him. It turned out he didn't live up to their expectations and now they had a lower respect for him. This made him feel more miserable than ever, his hopes of figuring out what to tell his parents with a calm attitude was harder with everyone reminding him that he was a loser. John and Darian, however, were especially supportive. They decided that it was time to break out the Marauder's Map and do some exploring to help take Timothy's mind off of Quidditch.  
  
"I have a bad feeling about this." John protested, yet grinning as Timothy revealed the map.  
  
"Of course you do, that's why we're doing it." Darian said simply.  
  
"Where should we go?" Timothy asked, studying the map.  
  
"I say we go down the passageway that Smith was in that time we tried to use the map before." Darian said.  
  
John snorted, and Timothy and Darian leaned in over the map to find the passageway. No one was in it, but standing at it's entrance were Professors Visser and Jackson.  
  
"Think they know what it is?" Darian wondered.  
  
Timothy shrugged.  
  
"Let's hope so… whatever Smith was doing down there had to be bad, so maybe he was caught!" John muttered.  
  
"If he was we'd be hearing about it, I'm sure." Darian said.  
  
"He has sure left us alone since the try-outs, though." Timothy mentioned.  
  
"Good. That good for nothing git is the reason why you're not on the team, Timothy. He's probably afraid of your dad being upset and coming to hex him." Darian crossed his arms.  
  
"That's not a bad idea." Timothy smiled… which did not linger long at the thought of his father knowing. He was still unsure on how to break the news, and he had received an eager letter from home that morning wanting to know the scoop. Timothy quickly shook his head and focused on the map.  
  
"Let's go… they're bound to move soon."  
  
Tucking the map inside his robes, Timothy and them moved out of Gryffindor Tower and tired to inconspicuously wander to the corridor in which the suit of armor guarding the secret passageway's entrance was placed. However, sure enough, they found Professor Visser and Professor Jackson in a deeply serious discussion. Gasping, Timothy, John, and Darian dashed behind a rather large statue of Kelvin of K'Vala (a wizard famous for living with forest nymphs).  
  
"I tell you, Delphi, that boy is not to be trusted."  
  
"I know, it's a wonder Eian allowed him to be a Prefect in the first place."  
  
"Well, Eian does not have the years of experience his father had. Smith played right into his hands, and Eian fell for it. It's obvious that boy is up to something."  
  
"From what I've seen, he's worked his way up for power… can't blame him with a personality like that. If he wasn't a Prefect, he'd be at the bottom of the social structure."  
  
"Even being a Prefect does not improve his social life. No, I don't think that's the reason. He has some other goal… and I think I know what."  
  
Timothy, Darian, and John pressed closer to hear.  
  
"What do you mean?" Professor Jackson whispered to Professor Visser.  
  
"I caught Smith coming out from behind this suit of armor, here. There's some sort of passageway behind it, leading away from the castle."  
  
"Why didn't you say anything before?"  
  
"I… I don't remember. That's the problem. I know I saw something… something in his hand that I knew was part of dark magic, but I can't recall what."  
  
"You mean to tell me he did a memory charm on you? Must not have been real strong, otherwise you wouldn't remember anything at all."  
  
Professor Visser nodded.  
  
"I managed to put a warding spell on me… but it was too late to block the full effect. With that memory gone, I had nothing to put against Smith other than being out in the halls after hours. I deducted points and set him off."  
  
"Well, at least tell Eian about this."  
  
"It would be a waste of time. I know him, he's not like his father. If I were to tell him that dark magic was taking place in the school, he'd laugh… and remind me of what the Potters did."  
  
Timothy's stomach flipped at the mention of his name.  
  
"I don't know, Paul, you tend to underestimate Eian. He's more like his father than you know."  
  
"No, we need to catch Smith in the act, then report him. If he is dealing with dark magic, he's very dangerous."  
  
"I find it hard to believe it's the work of dark magic. Everyone's been caught! The Potters destroyed You-Know-Who. You can consider dark magic extinct." Professor Jackson began to walk off, but Visser caught his shoulder.  
  
"Don't be so naïve, Delphi. There's always a chance that there is someone else out there, just as crazy as You-Know-Who was. Something is going on, and it's not good. You just keep your eyes and ears open."  
  
With a slight nod, Professor Jackson left, passing Timothy, Darian, and John. They watched as Professor Visser studied the suit of armor a moment, then left in the opposite direction, muttering to himself. When the coast was clear, they got out from their hiding place.  
  
"I knew it! I KNEW it! That Taku freak has some evil plan brewing." Darian pounded his fist.  
  
John studied the suit of armor with concern.  
  
"This is too much for us, we should just go tell Dumbledore."  
  
"You heard what Visser said, Dumbledore wouldn't believe us. And if he wouldn't believe a professor, he certainly wouldn't believe us." Timothy said, running a hand over the rusted metal of the armor.  
  
"If those two really did want to do something about Smith, they would have found a way in through this armor. That way, they can really catch him in the act… or at least see where he's been going." Darian said, helping Timothy.  
  
"Have the two of you stopped to think that we could get in trouble?" John stared down at them both, crossing his arms.  
  
"John, you're a wuss. You know that?" Darian snapped, annoyed.  
  
Timothy drew back a moment.  
  
"He does have a point, though, Darian."  
  
Darian rolled his eyes.  
  
"Now you, Timothy? Oh, come on! Let's do something exciting for once!"  
  
Timothy bit his lip, then began to help Darian once again. John tapped his foot nervously, looking at them both with scorn. His eyebrows raised, however, when there was a soft "CLICK", and the suit of armor swung open.  
  
"Ugh! Man, it reeks!" Darian fanned the moldy air sweeping out from a dark, rocky passageway.  
  
John took one look inside, then turned around.  
  
"Ok, let's go, see you later."  
  
Timothy took one arm, and Darian the other, and they both pulled John with them into the passageway.  
  
"Oh, come on, guys!" He moaned.  
  
When they were clear of the entrance, the suit of armor swung closed, instantly throwing them into darkness. Darian pulled out his wand, muttering "Lumos", and Timothy took the Marauder's Map out again.  
  
"Yep, we're in the passageway he was in, alright." He said, pointing to three dots with their names labeled above them.  
  
"What if he comes in here and catches us?" John whispered, yet no longer resisting.  
  
"Then we hex him." Darian said simply.  
  
"Oh, yeah… right, we'll just hex a fifth year who not only knows more magic than we do, but more dark magic!" John muttered sarcastically.  
  
"According to the map, he's not in the passageway, nor anywhere near it. He's in the library." Timothy pointed out.  
  
"He could come in here at any time!" John moaned.  
  
"You know what, John? I'm going to find a hex that'll make you shut up." Darian snapped, then stormed ahead of them, lighted wand in hand.  
  
Timothy, slightly put off by Darian's insensitivity to John's feelings, put a reassuring hand on John's shoulder.  
  
"You don't have to come with us, you know. If you go back, I'll understand."  
  
John considered him a moment, then slowly smiled.  
  
"No, if I go, who'll keep you guys in line? I'll risk it."  
  
Putting on a confident look, Timothy led John to catch up with Darian. The long rocky passageway was damp and musty, and the light from Darian's wand got brighter as they approached him. He was standing in front of a large boulder, that was blocking the passage.  
  
"I can't believe it! We're so close! Only to be stopped by a big rock. This bites." Darian's shoulders sunk, dropping his hand with his lighted wand.  
  
John lit his own wand, as well as Timothy, and they surveyed the boulder. It was sealed tight, not an inch of a crack to be seen between it and the wall.  
  
"This does not make sense, though." John muttered, almost to himself. "By the looks of it, this rock is so moldy, dusty, and old that it does not look like it's been moved for ages."  
  
"Maybe things gather dust quicker down here, I don't know." Darian grumbled.  
  
"It's more than obvious that whatever's behind this rock is where Smith was. He used magic to seal the rest of the passage, making it look like this has been blocking the way for a long time. No one, who ever made it to this point, would think otherwise." Timothy said.  
  
John and Darian turned to him, John smiled.  
  
"Well, in that case, let's blast it out of the way if it's here by magic!" Darian squealed, excited again.  
  
John shook his head at him.  
  
"By advanced magic, Darian. Smith is a fifth year, he's a lot more advanced than we are. We can't possibly move this ourselves… yet."  
  
Darian looked at him with new interest, Timothy started to get the idea.  
  
"Do you think we could learn how to move this anytime soon?" Timothy asked.  
  
John thought a moment.  
  
"It depends on how hard we study and practice. I'm sure there's a book in the library that would have something."  
  
"But that could take forever!" Darian wailed. "I want to find out what's behind this stupid thing now!"  
  
"We can't Darian, we don't know how. If you really do want to move this thing, you'll look up a spell with us in the library." Timothy scolded him, turning around and walking back. John followed, and Darian, with a long look of resentment on his face, soon caught up.  
  
Timothy was staring down at the Marauder's Map, when he stopped dead in his tracks, John and Darian bumping into his back.  
  
"Hey, what gives?"  
  
"Smith is not in the library anymore." Timothy whispered, his voice cracking nervously.  
  
"What do you mean, he's not in the library anymore?" Darian whipped the map from his hands. John stomped his foot.  
  
"I knew it! I knew this would happen!"  
  
"Where is he? I can't find him on the map." Darian muttered, his voice growing anxious. Timothy searched the map.  
  
"He's not there, I can't find him!"  
  
"He has to be somewhere," John snatched the map roughly from Darian. "You just can't disappear from Hogwarts."  
  
"Maybe he apparated, like my parents do?" Darian suggested.  
  
"No," Timothy shook his head. "You have to be eighteen and pass a test to apparate. Smith's only fifteen. Besides, my dad told me you can't apparate or disapparate on Hogwarts grounds."  
  
John's expression turned to disbelief as he stared at the map longer.  
  
"It's impossible, but… he's not here. He's not anywhere on the map."  
  
"He could be hiding." Darian whispered, looking over his shoulder nervously.  
  
"The rest of all the passageways leading from the castle is off the map. He could be in any of them, out of range." Timothy bit his lip.  
  
"We need to get out of here." John ordered, and no one protested as John (almost running) quickly reached the back of the suit of armor and pushed it open. Glancing at the map to make sure no one was around, they crept from behind the armor and slid it back in place.  
  
Timothy took the map from John, gave it a last stare, then wiped it clean with his wand… muttering "Mischief managed!" under his breath.  
  
"We should go see Whisper and Jeff… we haven't gone to see them since we promised we would." He said, leading out.  
  
"What are we going to do about Smith… and that rock?" Darian asked impatiently.  
  
"Maybe we can ask Whisper about it, I'm sure she'd know."  
  
And so, after wandering the grounds looking for where ever the giantess lived, they soon found an enormous log house tucked into an almost hidden spot at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Timothy knocked on the door that was three times taller than he was, and there was a loud scuffling inside. The three of them exchanged glances, when the door opened, revealing the large hairy giant of Echolocata Whisper, the groundskeeper.  
  
"There you are! I was wondering when you'd come. Oh, it's delightful to see you dears. Come in, come in!"  
  
With no effort at all, she swept her huge hand behind all three of them and pulled them inside. Almost instantly, Timothy was knocked over to the floor.  
  
"Oh! OH! OH! Thank the heavens! Oh! Oh, please… take me away from this place! I'll have a hundred tea parties, I don't care! Oh please, let me go home!"  
  
Jeff's long claws clung deeply to Timothy's robes, and Timothy tried desperately to pull him off. Darian, rather nervously, tried to help, pulling at Jeff's back and carefully avoiding his scales.  
  
"He's such a darling, it's been rather amusing having him here with me." Whisper cheered, walking over to a large kitchenette set that was over in a corner.   
  
The whole log cabin was one room. Timothy felt like he was an ant in a doll house by the size of everything. The bed might as well had been a swimming pool… he didn't want to think about the size of her bathtub. There was a sofa, and a few chairs, but otherwise there was nothing else inside to boast about.  
  
"Won't you have some tea?" Whisper offered them, as Timothy finally got Jeff to let go.  
  
"Er… sure." The three of them replied.  
  
Timothy held Jeff, who simply refused to leave his side. Jeff's expression was mixed with anger and relief.  
  
"I am not a lap dragon! I do not eat cat food! And, I simply refuse to wear a sweater! No, this large hairy thing needs to get a life!"  
  
Timothy looked up at Whisper nervously as she handed him (to his surprise) a regular sized mug filled with tea. Surprising him more was the chuckling smile spread across her face.  
  
"Oh, he's a funny one. I had no idea that Jefforagons were so comical!"  
  
Timothy, Darian, and John exchanged rolling eyes.  
  
"Whisper? How come you don't have that much stuff?" Darian asked, his interest peeking.  
  
Whisper looked around her cabin with a thoughtful expression, nodding.  
  
"Why, it does appear that my cabin is a bit bare. But that's the life of a Timberlan, we're not allowed much possessions."  
  
"What do you mean? And what exactly is a Timberlan?" Darian continued, both Timothy and John now intrigued.  
  
Whisper laughed, shaking the walls.  
  
"I'm a Timberlan, that's what. And where I come from, we live peacefully in the woods and only take what we need to live from nature."  
  
"Where are you from? How'd you get here?" Timothy asked, ignoring Jeff's angry nips at his fingers.  
  
"North America. Since a lot of your folk moved over there during the dark times, Timberlans often helped. Our people are related to the giants of Europe, and so the ambassador of the giants… Mr. Hagrid, I believe, came over and I helped him out. When Hogwarts was being rebuilt, and Hagrid couldn't take his old job as groundskeeper, he suggested me take the position. With the dark art threat gone, I was more than happy to oblige. And so, here I am!"  
  
They all nodded, Jeff now tugging Timothy's robes to pull him out, but he stood his ground. He hadn't forgotten about asking how someone could just "disappear" from the castle   
  
"There's something up, isn't there? I can see it in your eyes, Mr. Potter."  
  
Wringing his hands nervously behind his back, ignoring the protests from Jeff, Timothy nodded.  
  
"There is. We were… er… just wondering if it's possible to leave Hogwarts grounds without a trace… or something."  
  
"He means, can you be in one place one minute, and be gone in another?" Darian added.  
  
Whisper studied all three of them closely.  
  
"Well, yes, dears… it's called apparating. But you can't do that on Hogwarts grounds."  
  
"We know that," John said. "But, is there some other way to leave the castle quickly in a matter of just a few minutes?"  
  
She stared blankly at them for several moments, making Timothy feel even more uncomfortable.  
  
"Not that I know of, no. Why such unusual questions?"  
  
Timothy shook his head quickly.  
  
"No reason, we were just wondering."  
  
Whisper considered them suspiciously for a moment, then shrugged and smiled.  
  
"Well then, dinner should be soon. The three of you should be getting yourselves up to the castle now."  
  
"Oh no! No, no, no, no, no! You are not leaving me here again!" Jeff cried, smoke jetting from his nose.  
  
Timothy stared down at him apologetically.  
  
"There's no other place for you here that's safe. It's your fault, after all."  
  
"I came here to be with you! Not to be the pet of some hairy giant!" Jeff blocked the door.  
  
"I promise to come more often, alright? I'm sorry I didn't come earlier." Timothy tried to move him aside.  
  
"You can't do this to me, wild one! I'll do anything, just don't make me stay here!" Jeff sobbed.  
  
"It can't be that bad," Timothy whispered to him, picking Jeff up. "She seems real nice."  
  
Jeff stopped sobbing and thought a moment.  
  
"Ok, so you have a point there… but if I have to play fetch one more time, I promise I'll set her on fire."  
  
Timothy gave him a look of scorn, making Jeff smile sheepishly.  
  
"Take care of Jeff, I promise I'll be back sooner." He smiled broadly at Jeff's protesting struggle as he handed him to Whisper. Jeff gave up once in her tight grip, Whisper patting his head too hard.  
  
"Be good now you three," As they waved and left the cabin. "Come back soon!"  
  
They entered the castle and into the Great Hall, which was busy with activity for dinner. Darian and John looked overwhelmed, they certainly weren't used to talking dragons, and definitely not Timberlans. Timothy frowned as he looked the Gryffindor table up and down, seeing Bran talking animatedly with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. It made his heart sink, reminding him that he had yet to tell his parents about not making it. Shoveling a large amount of mashed potatoes onto his plate more roughly then meant to, out of the corner of his eye, Timothy saw someone small sit down next to him.  
  
"Ahem… er…"  
  
He turned to face Luna Dine, the small Hufflepuff that had a knack for running into him. Her face was contorted with nerves, as her mouth groped for words.  
  
"What?" Timothy asked sharply.  
  
"Timothy, I… well you see… oh, dear." She couldn't spit it out, and Timothy grew steadily annoyed.  
  
"This is the Gryffindor table, Luna. The Hufflepuff one is over there." He motioned with his head over to the Hufflepuff table.  
  
Luna's shoulders sagged, and she nodded.  
  
"But… but, Timothy, there's something-…"  
  
"I believe you're at the wrong table, Dine." Barked a cold voice.  
  
Coming up behind her, was Taku Smith. His arms were folded and he sauntered to leer at Luna's back. She practically sank in the seat, her eyes wide with fear. Timothy stared at him, his insides cold and his mind racing about how Smith was back in the castle. However, he bent his head low to Luna and whispered with a softer tone.  
  
"You better go, before he deducts points. Sorry."  
  
She nodded, and scuttled away as quickly as she could, keeping as far from Smith as possible. Timothy felt bad for being so harsh, when she was obviously trying to tell him something. He could feel the stares from John and Darian next to him, as Smith now turned his expression on Timothy.  
  
"Potter," His voice an unusual friendly tone, making Timothy raise his eyebrows. "I'd like a word with you out in the corridor."  
  
"D'uh…" Timothy glanced back at John and Darian, both of them had astonished and confused faces.  
  
"Alone." Smith ordered, and turned to leave.  
  
Hesitantly, Timothy got to his feet, looking back at his friends… urging them to tell him something. But all they could do was hang their jaws open and watch as Timothy shuffled out of the hall in Smith's wake.  
  
Smith led him almost to the front doors, before he turned and stared intently at him. Timothy gulped, his heart racing. What could Smith possibly want with him?  
  
"So sorry about the Quidditch position, I knew that meant a lot to you." Smith said with a professional attitude.  
  
Timothy's chest then swelled with anger, but he tried hard to suppress it, knowing what would happen if he lost himself at Smith. He was afraid to answer, and so just nodded stiffly.  
  
"It was a very hard decision, and no one could really come up with a choice. The vote was merely a toss up, and… well… in life, there's always a winner and a loser. Unfortunately, Potter, you just so happened to be the loser this time." Smith continued, now studying his fingernails and polishing them on his robes. Timothy looked at him with utter exasperation, it was all a lie. He knew that Smith was the reason he wasn't chosen, the vote was not unanimous because of him.  
  
"Can I go now?" He asked hotly, tapping his foot.  
  
Smith frowned darkly at him.  
  
"I'm not done, Potter. Well, it wouldn't be right not to help someone with as noble a bloodline that you have at his Quidditch skills. I could help you, so that you'll have a better chance next year."  
  
Timothy snorted, coughing a laugh.  
  
"Like I'd accept help from you. I'm fine at flying, thanks. Next year I'll just have to impress the team better, I guess." He turned to leave, but Smith caught his shoulder roughly.  
  
"Careful, Potter. Not everyone is blind by the popularity of your name. It won't get you everywhere… and it certainly won't do everything for you. So you just watch your step, your parents aren't here to back you up." He seethed in his ear, and before Timothy could do so much as leer at him, Smith dropped his shoulder and left up the main staircase.  
  
Hatred running through him, Timothy stormed back into the Great Hall. John and Darian looked at him worriedly as he sat abruptly down at his seat.  
  
"What was that about?"  
  
"What happened?"  
  
He shook his head roughly, blinded too much by the loathing he had for Smith. What did he ever do to him to make Smith hate him so?  
  
John seemed to sense that Timothy was not ready to talk, and he gave Darian a serious look not to press any further at that moment. They continued to eat in silence, and Timothy (too angry to eat) looked up over at the Hufflepuff table. Luna was looking over at him with mysterious concern, after a moment of eye contact, she looked away. It made Timothy wonder even more. Why, whenever he would encounter Smith, did he always bump into her? What was it that she wanted to tell him?  
  
He couldn't think straight with the noise of the Great Hall, and so with puzzled and concerned looks from both John and Darian, Timothy left. Not sure where to go, he hesitated outside the doors, his fists clenched tight. Finally he decided to go to the library… see if he could find anything on spells or charms that could move that boulder. Timothy turned blindly in the library's direction… when he bumped into someone.  
  
"Why me? Why do people have to…-?"  
  
Looking up angrily, Timothy's face fell with shock when he realized who he had bumped into. It sure wasn't Luna Dine.  
  
"Timothy! Hey, what's up?"  
  
It was his Godfather, Ron Weasley. Timothy practically melted with relief and pleasant surprise.  
  
"Uncle Ron! What're you doing here?"  
  
Ron laughed, pulling Timothy into a hug.  
  
"I'm here with my dad, you know, the Minister of Magic. He had a meeting with Eian Dumbledore and I came along. I was hoping I'd see you!"  
  
"Cool." Timothy said, pulling away.  
  
Ron looked him over. His face narrowed with slight concern.  
  
"Everything alright? You look troubled. No one's giving you a hard time is there?"  
  
"No. No, nothing's wrong. Just tired, I guess." He lied.  
  
His Godfather looked at him, not entirely convinced, but shrugged and sighed.  
  
"I got a letter from your father. He hasn't heard from you, lately." From the sound of his voice, Timothy knew that he knew the reason why. He didn't say anything, but averted his eyes.  
  
"You can tell him anything, you know. I know your father well enough to know that he'll understand anything. He loves you, not matter what. Your mother too, and you should tell them something soon, or she'll have a nervous break-down."  
  
"Sorry, school's been… busy." Timothy stretched the truth… regretting doing so to his Godfather.  
  
"Well, you're coming home for Christmas, right?"  
  
"Of course!" Timothy answered quickly.  
  
Ron smiled and made ready to leave.  
  
"I'll see you then, you'll be coming over to my parent's house for Christmas dinner. I have to run now, but I'll see you at Christmas… and write home!" He ruffled Timothy's hair and then left, leaving Timothy standing in the hallway, again filled with gloom.  
  
"What a Christmas present I'll be bringing home."  
  
A/N: Sorry, if that was short. It most likely is... my word processor deceives me, 'cause this story has reached to 110 pages. So I think after writing so long that the chapter is too long and then I stop and start a new one. But oh well, that's all fine and dandy to you, I'm sure.  
I would like to thank 007/X (I don't have the spelling of your screen name off hand right now, sorry, it's 10:00 at night) for selecting my sorting hat song from this story to win the contest. I'm real flattered, thank you! If you wish to see the other songs 007 selected, just put 007 in author search.  
One thing- http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com  
Go THERE! ::smiles sweetly:: If you're in the mood for something amusing, on the first page is a Christmas carol entitled "The Twelve Days of a Harry Potter Christmas". If you want to see "Eight Dementors Singing" and "A Rat in a Whomping Willow Tree" put in a song, well, there ya go! Yes, I wrote it on a whim.  
Another thing- REVIEW... REVIEW... oh, and REVIEW!  
Need I say more?  
OK, I will say more and I'll say this:  
Never Moon a Werewolf.  
Thank you. And hey! You know what? REVIEW! Yeah, that's right! How'd you know?  
I think I need sleep...  
~OrcaPotter 


	9. Home For the Holidays

A/N: The author's note will be short, but this chapter will not! Woohoo, the holiday chapter is here! But, behold... it's not all sugar plums and egg nog, I did not fail to leave out suspense in this chapter! ::dramatic music plays:: Oh chunky, I have to make this short. Lot's of homework to do that's due tomorrow ::gags::! So I leave you 'till the bottom... ENJOY! And hey, leave a review will you please? Thanks!  
DISCLAIMER: Blah.  
  
  
Chapter Nine: Home For the Holidays   
  
  
Before bed that evening, Timothy managed to tell Darian and John what had happened with Smith. Extraordinarily grateful for having friends, they both shared the same outrage Timothy felt.  
  
"That guy has some nerve, offering to help you when it was him that prevented you from getting on the team in the first place!" Darian growled as they were getting ready for bed.  
  
"He's dangerous. Nothing to it. Stay as far away as you can from him, Timothy. It's obvious that after being shunted and under appreciated, Smith's got it in for anyone popular." John advised, pulling on his pajamas.  
  
Timothy sighed and nodded, but was slightly confused as he focused on the matter.  
  
"I don't understand it, though. If he hates me so much, why offer to do anything for me… like giving lessons?"  
  
His friends both shrugged, pulling down their covers and climbing into bed.  
  
"The guy's mental." Darian yawned.  
  
Timothy got into bed himself, his mind swimming and groggy with so many things. Between the fear of telling his parents about failing the try-outs and his fifth year foe, it was a wonder that he managed to get any sleep at all.  
  
  
It wasn't until the end of the following week that Timothy finally convinced himself to write home. The letter was short, and he made up his mind not to mention anything about Quidditch. Instead, he simply apologized for his lack of communication, blaming a heavy amount of schoolwork and fascinating encounters with the gamekeeper, Echolocata Whisper. It was partially true, and he even reassured his mother that Jeff was safe at Hogwarts and that he would bring him home for Christmas. Lastly, Timothy added a P.S. for his mother, wishing her a happy Thanksgiving.  
  
John mentioned that he was proud of him for finally writing when Timothy went to the Owlry to send off the letter with Windstone. However, when Timothy told him that he didn't mention Quidditch, John simply gave him an intense stare.  
  
"What? It would be tacky to tell them in a letter. I'd rather do it in person, as painful as it may be. But it'd be better then writing them about it, otherwise my Christmas will be lousy from the start." Timothy said as they went back up to Gryffindor tower.  
  
"Perhaps that is better." John said simply, and said nothing more until they reached the common room.  
  
For the first time since the beginning of the school year, Timothy saw, standing amidst nearly everyone of Gryffindor, Professor Miller. He was taking names down on a clipboard.  
  
"Will you be staying for Christmas?" He asked Timothy and John as they approached.  
  
"No." Timothy replied immediately, but John didn't answer right away.  
  
"John? How 'bout you?" Professor Miller, as well as Timothy, looked at him.  
  
John sighed, shuffled his feet, and muttered: "No."  
  
Professor Miller nodded, then turned to the people around him. Timothy, looking at John, followed the hastily moving tall boy up to the dorms.  
  
"Don't you want to go home for Christmas?" Timothy asked meekly as they entered their dorm.  
  
John forced a meager chuckle and sat down heavily on his bed.  
  
"It's not entirely a happy place to be for the holidays."  
  
"Why?" Timothy persisted kindly.  
  
John just shook his head and looked away, and Timothy decided to drop it. It wasn't long until Darian joined them.  
  
"Mom wanted me to stay here for Christmas, but I told her no. I see her all year, and I haven't seen dad since before I left for Hogwarts. Maybe I can convince him to get me a decent broom for Christmas." He said happily, not noticing John.  
  
Timothy looked concernedly over at John, and decided to engage Darian in a game of chess, letting John be alone with his thoughts.  
  
  
The weeks until the midterms past by quickly, and not a week went by that Timothy had his usual narrow encounters with Smith. Making him more suspicious all the while was the fact that Luna Dine made several attempts to talk with him, but not far away, clear in her view, would be Taku Smith, and she would suddenly remember someplace else she had to be and leave.  
  
One day in the library, two days before their midterms, Timothy, John, and Darian were studying. Textbooks of every shape and size littered the large table at which they sat. John quietly took notes while Timothy strained to read the tiny print of "The History of Fairies for Fairies". Darian, on the other hand, complained loudly over the amount they had to study, and simply sat there looking disgustedly down at his paper on "Why You Should Never Eat Floo Powder".  
  
"You choose to do that topic for Potions, so stop complaining." John said, mildly annoyed and not even blinking over his eight pages of notes.  
  
"There's nothing on the effects of eating Floo Powder in any of these stupid books!" Darian growled, slamming his fist on top of his paper, making people at the three tables around them jump.  
  
"Shhh!" Hissed Tina Vaulks, a Gryffindor first year girl.  
  
"Fix that leak of yours, it's annoying." Darian whispered hoarsely to her.  
  
"Darian, why would you want to eat Floo Powder to begin with?" Timothy asked over his book.  
  
"Well, by the time I'm done with this paper… if I'm ever done with this paper, anyone who's ever thought of eating Floo Powder will never want to!" Darian stuck his nose up.  
  
"You're not going to find anything if you just sit there." John muttered above his constant writing.  
  
"I'm thinking… besides, there's nothing on Floo Powder ingestion in the whole library!"  
  
"You're not looking hard enough! But then again, maybe there isn't anything written about the effects of eating Floo Powder because no one has lived to tell anyone about it!" John slammed his quill down so hard in exasperation, that he splattered ink all over Timothy.  
  
"What do you mean? That you could turn inside out or something? Or, your insides will be transported to where you want to go, and your skin is left behind?" Darian asked curiously, ignoring John's growing anger and Timothy's look of disgust.  
  
"Darian, stop. Don't put pictures in my head, please." Timothy gulped, feeling green.  
  
John looked about ready to wrap his fists around Darian's neck, and Timothy thought it best to go find another text book for Defense Against Dark Creatures at that moment. He left them in a heated argument on whether or not you could even swallow Floo Powder, and headed for the enormously tall bookshelves.  
  
Timothy never felt so bored as he looked up and down the shelves lazily. Several minutes past without result, and, yawning deeply, Timothy stuffed his hands in his pockets. A quiet cough suddenly broke the deep silence that the shelves seemed to produce, and Timothy looked down his isle to see, at the very end, Luna Dine. Small to begin with, she looked like a gnome compared to the shelves. Standing on her toes, Luna was stretching to retrieve a book that was just out of her reach.  
  
Not really thinking about it, Timothy walked down the isle and, once reaching her, easily grabbed the book she was groping for and handed it to her. She looked up at him, first graciously, then her face fell and her eyes darted nervously around them.  
  
"T-thank you, Timothy." She whispered.  
  
Timothy's eyes widened with realization, and quickly surveyed the area as well. Maybe he could get whatever it was that Luna wanted to tell him out of her now. He didn't see Smith anywhere, but regardless, Luna began to turn and leave.  
  
"Wait." Timothy grabbed her shoulder gently, and pulled her to face him. She was turning pale and bounced on her heals in apprehension.  
  
"Y-yes?" She muttered absentmindedly, still looking around her.  
  
"You've been wanting to tell me something for weeks now, but you've never told me what it is. I don't see Smith. Now's your opportunity to tell me." He whispered quickly.  
  
Luna's eyes were glossy and she looked especially torn as she looked Timothy in the eyes.  
  
"I… I… yes, well… but… but if Smith were to find out… oh, oh…"  
  
"What is it? What's Smith got against you? Why is it that whenever you try to tell me, he's not far behind and you're scared silly?" Timothy tried to make his voice calm and gentle, seeing Luna grow more and more unglued as he held onto her shoulder.  
  
She stared at him, her body shaking slightly.  
  
"I won't tell him, I promise." Timothy assured her.  
  
"You're in d-danger, Timothy." Luna leaned in and whispered fearfully.  
  
Timothy looked at her with wide and confused eyes.  
  
"Danger? What do you mean?"  
  
"Smith… he's… he's got… he's got the Offender's…" She suddenly looked over her shoulder. "Oh no!"   
  
Luna shrieked and pulled roughly away from Timothy. She began to run off, but to Timothy's sudden horror, he saw that Taku Smith was blocking her way. Timothy didn't see him coming.  
  
"You must learn to make better use of your time, Potter. This is a library, used for studying. It's not a social hot spot. Five points from Gryffindor." Smith said icily, looking over Luna's head and straight at Timothy, who glowered back at him.  
  
"Dine. I want to see you in the hall." He growled at Luna, but was still looking menacingly at Timothy.  
  
She nodded slowly, her breath quick and shallow with fear. Timothy felt a sudden burst of anger swell inside him, and before he could stop himself, he was balling his fists and stepping defiantly at Smith as he turned to leave.  
  
"You're not a professor! You can't order us around like that unless a professor told you to!" He doubted his words the moment they left his mouth, he really didn't have a liable argument there… Smith could have very well had orders from a professor to talk privately with Luna.  
  
"Watch it, Potter. Or it'll be ten points. Keep your nose out of other people's business." Smith growled dangerously at him, and before Timothy could say anything more, he took Luna (more roughly than Timothy had) by the shoulder and led her out of the library.  
  
Timothy stood there, really not knowing what to do. Finally he made up his mind and went back to his table, where Darian and John were now arguing over Magicomps.  
  
"It's the twenty-first century, John! Get with it! Aim a spell at your Magicomp and it will produce anything for you." Darian looked flustered.  
  
"Before I ask how you guys got into this topic, I need to tell you what just happened." Timothy interrupted before John could come back at Darian. He then explained what had happened with Luna and Smith, both of his friends now suddenly quiet.  
  
"Well? What do you think? Who knows what Smith is doing to Luna out in the hall right now?" Timothy asked when he was done.  
  
"What do you want us to do? Go tell a professor, or tell the Headmaster… but don't do anything yourself. You know how Smith is toward you." Darian shrugged.  
  
"But Luna said I was in danger." Timothy muttered.  
  
"Timothy, danger to that Hufflepuff could be something as simple as the possibility of tripping down the main stairwell." Darian dropped it at that, then got up and disappeared behind the bookshelves.  
  
John, however, was looking at Timothy intently. He sighed and shuffled his papers.  
  
"He has, however surprisingly, a good point. Luna does appear to be the kind of person that would faint at the sight of a spider. You don't want to get any more involved with Smith than you already are. But if this continues, we should tell a professor or the Headmaster."  
  
"It has been going on, like I've been telling you all these weeks. She's been trying to tell me something, and I nearly got it out of her this time!" Timothy sat down heavily and dropped his chin on his fists.  
  
John thought a moment.  
  
"I know, tell your parents about it when you go home for the holidays. I know they're bound to know what to do."  
  
Timothy pondered the idea as John got up.  
  
"I have to find another book on Transfiguration, this one is too basic. I need more details. Be back in a moment."  
  
  
When the midterms arrived, Timothy managed to forget Smith and Luna long enough to cram for the tests. On the day before they were to leave for home, the results were sent back to them. Timothy passed everything, as well as John, however Darian's report on "The Results of Eating Floo Powder" was a flop… he managed to skid by Potions with a D-.  
  
The following morning, the whole dorm was buzzing with minor packing and farewells. Timothy was the only one not racing to find everything, but instead sat on his bed holding his Dragonsfire 800.  
  
"What's wrong, Timothy?" Darian asked, holding up a particularly dirty looking sock from the floor.  
  
"Nothing." Timothy sighed, putting the broom aside.  
  
Darian stared at him, then looked at the broom.  
  
"Oh, I get it. Just take it home, will ya? I'm sure your dad will want you to."  
  
"Yeah, to return it." Timothy mumbled.   
  
Darian gave him a reproving look, then glanced back at John, who was looking at them both.  
  
"Timothy, I'm tired of your wallowing in self-pity. Get over it! If you don't pack that broom, I'll pack it for ya."  
  
Timothy stared at them both, John nodded at him, and he sighed once again and nodded himself.  
  
  
The trip back to Platform 9 and ¾ was alive with holiday excitement. Looking out the window, the countryside was covered in glistening snow. The Hogwarts Express was adorned in holly and greens, and every now and then a fairy would fly by their compartment sprinkling sugar. Exactly why, Timothy wasn't sure.  
  
Darian managed to cheer Timothy up to his usual self, talking about how he accidentally stumbled into a Muggle hockey game when he was four years old and getting hit in the head with a hockey stick. Timothy found this amusing, but Darian rubbed his head as if it still hurt with a painful memory. John, seemed himself the whole trip, until Platform 9 and ¾ rolled into view.  
  
"There they are." He whispered, only Timothy heard.  
  
"Your parents?"  
  
"Yeah." He said after a long pause.  
  
The train stopped, and now Timothy could see the familiar shapes of his family waving energetically through his window. He smiled broadly at them, and his joy at finally seeing them after so long made him forget about the news he would have to break to them.  
  
He turned around to see that Darian had already gathered his things and was tugging at them to hurry. Timothy did not hesitate, and grabbed his stuff and followed Darian out. John was the last to leave.  
  
On the platform, people were darting everywhere, and Timothy instantly lost track of Darian. He looked frantically about for his family, until something knocked hard into him.  
  
"Timothy! Timothy!"  
  
"Kalina!" Timothy shouted, now realizing that the small figure presently latched onto him was his little sister. He hugged her back, then winced as she was making it hard for him to breathe. "Er… ok, now. Let go."  
  
"Timothy!"  
  
He looked up to see both his parents, who were having no problem getting through the crowd (as people parted gasping out of their way), striding over to him. Instantly, his father was at his side, beaming down at him. Timothy, Kalina letting go, ran into his arms.  
  
"Dad!"  
  
"Hey, I've missed you so much!" His father said, hugging him close and ruffling his hair. He stepped aside to let Timothy hug his mother.  
  
"Oh, how I've missed my little boy!" She cried happily, hugging him and trying to fix Timothy's hair… which was useless.  
  
Kalina was bouncing at everyone's feet until their father picked her up.  
  
"Harry, go get his things. I'll get a place in line for the Floo Network before the line gets too long." His mother said, taking Kalina from him.  
  
"I'll be back."  
  
As Timothy watched his father go off back to the train to get his stuff, he saw Darian talking happily with a man. He assumed that he must have been his father, for he had the same black hair. They looked over in Timothy's direction and waved; he waved back. Then for a fleeting moment in the other direction, Timothy glimpsed John walking with a couple that were not much taller than him… however they were far from happy looking. Before Timothy could so much as wave at them, his father returned with his things.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
They managed to get through the crowd and into the Floo Network fireplace that was set up for the extra traffic. One by one, Timothy was followed by his family. Where he landed next was in the living room of his house, which had been grandly decorated with festive holiday decorations.  
  
"Mmmff… leemmie… ouffttt!"  
  
"What?" Timothy jumped, as Kalina appeared from the fireplace behind him.  
  
"What?" She asked, puzzled, looking at Timothy who was pulling off his backpack.  
  
He opened it to reveal a disheveled Jeff.  
  
"Were you just going to keep me in there until next year?" He crawled hotly out of the bag.  
  
"Sorry." Timothy muttered, turning red as his parents arrived last through the fireplace.  
  
"Jeff!" His mother cried, grabbing the yellow Jefforagon. "Why on earth did you leave without telling us?"  
  
Jeff considered his words a moment.  
  
"D'er… I… umm…"  
  
"Exactly." His father muttered, pulling Timothy's stuff from the fireplace. "Timothy, come on, we'll put this in your room."  
  
Timothy stifled a laugh as his mother looked reprovingly at Jeff, holding him by the long scales on his neck. Kalina giggled, pulling off her shoes on the couch. He followed his father out into the hallway, and happily, into his bedroom.  
  
Nothing had changed. It was just as it was when he left months before. The ceiling's painting showed the sky in a pink rose color of dusk, and he did not hesitate to lie back on his neatly made bed and stare at the ceiling. Timothy heard his father placing the trunk in a corner, the moving things around a bit. But he didn't pay attention, Timothy simply closed his eyes, enjoying being home.  
  
"How'd she fly?"  
  
"Huh?" Timothy snapped alert and looked over to see his father casually twirling his Dragonsfire 800 between his fingers.  
  
"How'd she fly?" He asked again, smiling.  
  
Timothy felt the pit fall in his stomach again. He didn't expect to be discussing this topic so soon. Glancing a moment at his broom, Timothy looked away and said nothing. He felt his father sit on his bed and sigh.  
  
"It's alright, Timothy. I don't care about the team."  
  
"What?" Timothy turned back to stare at his father. He was still smiling down at him.  
  
"I figured out what happened, after not receiving a letter from you. The only thing that I am disappointed about, is not hearing about how enjoyable this broom is."  
  
"You're not mad?" Timothy asked, weakly, looking at his father cautiously.  
  
"Of course not! Why on earth would I be mad? I don't care about the team, I care about you. Both of us know what you're capable of… but no matter what happens, I'll love you no matter what. So, you didn't make the team this year… you'll make it next year. If not… so what? It won't make me think any less of you. I'll always be proud of you… always. The same goes for your mother as well. However, she was rather frantic from not hearing from you."  
  
"Sorry." Timothy muttered.  
  
His father laughed and pulled him into another hug. Timothy finally smiled, and held onto him for a long while.  
  
"I missed you, dad."  
  
"Hey…"  
  
Timothy looked up and saw his mother leaning in the doorway, smiling.  
  
"Sorry to brake this up, but I'm sure the men of the household would like some cookie dough before a certain little brunette unlike myself eats it all."  
  
"Emm… cookie dough…" Timothy and his father said in union, smiling at each other.  
  
Making his mother jump, both himself and his father raced out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.  
  
"Boys." His mother muttered happily.  
  
  
The next few days could not have been happier for Timothy. He played Quidditch with his father in the snow, had countless snowball fights with his sister, and had enjoyable lessons on ice sculpting from his mother. In the blink of an eye, it was Christmas Eve, and Timothy took his usual spot beside his father on the couch for another story that night.  
  
"Tell us about the Invisibility Cloak again, dad." Timothy asked, trying to keep himself from yawning, warm and content leaning in the crook of his father's arm.  
  
"You should know that one by heart by now." He smiled.  
  
"Please?" Kalina whined from their mother's lap.  
  
Timothy's mother smiled at his father, and his parents exchanged a wordless conversation. They did that often, and when he would ask what they were doing, they would tell Timothy it was all a part of being Etam Luoses. Finally, his father sighed and grinned.  
  
"Alright. Here goes: It all started on Christmas morning during my first year at Hogwarts…"   
  
Timothy listened to the familiar story and grinned to himself as his father would change the story around with each telling. The old grandfather clock chimed and he soon found himself asleep. Timothy felt himself being moved and suddenly in his own bed, but was too tired to lift his eyelids.   
  
After what seemed like only moments, Timothy felt someone tugging on his arms.  
  
"Timothy! Timothy, wake up!"  
  
"Ehhh?"  
  
"Timothy, come on! It's Christmas, let's go wake mum and dad!"  
  
Timothy opened his eyes and nearly yelped. His sister, Kalina, was two inches from his face.  
  
"Come on, sleepy head… we do this every year."  
  
Nodding sleepily, but growing excited, Timothy rolled out of bed and followed his little sister out of his room. It was a tradition with his sister to wake their parents up at the crack of dawn on Christmas.  
  
Padding down the hallway, Timothy wasn't watching where he was going and stepped on something soft.  
  
"OWWW!"  
  
"Ahhh!"  
  
"Timothy! You're gonna wake them up before we get in their room! You'll spoil it!" Kalina chided from the gloom ahead of him.  
  
"Can't a dragon get some sleep around here without being stepped on?" Jeff cried groggily from a basket by the wall in the hallway.  
  
"Sorry." Timothy whispered. "Go back to sleep."  
  
"What's the use, it's Christmas and I know what you're up to." Jeff grumbled.  
  
Kalina impatiently stomped over and grabbed Timothy's hand, dragging him to their parent's bedroom door. He smiled, waking up entirely and grinned at his sister. Her long dark brown hair was braided and she pulled up her long nightgown, preparing to pounce.  
  
"You know, last year… dad tried to hex us when we did this." He whispered to her as he took his role of opening the door.  
  
"Yeah, and the year before that mum fell out of bed trying to get her wand!" Kalina giggled.  
  
"What do you think they'll do this year?" He asked, the door now wide open.  
  
"Let's find out…" Kalina whispered mischievously.  
  
Giggling silently to themselves, Timothy and Kalina crept inside. They reached their parent's bed… took one look at each other… then jumped.  
  
"It's Christmas!" Kalina squealed.  
  
"Wake up!" Timothy cried, landing on his father.  
  
"It was the sea gull, honest!" His mother sat up in bed.  
  
"I promise, I didn't do it!" His father mumbled.  
  
"Mum, mum, mum, mum! Presents! Can we open them now, please?" Kalina crawled across the bed and nuzzled her head into their mother's hair.  
  
"Dad! Dad, dad!" Timothy shook their father's leg.  
  
"Tim… Timothy? Oh, son… it's still dark out."  
  
"Can't you two wait until… I dunno, 10 AM?" Their mother laid back down.  
  
"No!" Timothy and Kalina moaned.  
  
They both took a parent and began to drag them out of bed. After a lot of effort, and promises of a strong cup of coffee… the whole family was soon in the living room.  
  
The lights on the tree were lit and Timothy smiled broadly at the sight of so many presents. Kalina started to pull out her gifts on the floor and Timothy joined her. Their parents sat down together on the couch, holding mugs of steaming coffee and tired smiles. For an hour, there was nothing but flying wrapping paper and joyous squeals. When everything died down, Timothy had received a dragon leather broom case, a flurry of new clothes, a wrist watch that told not only the time but where you were located, and a book on international Quidditch teams. Kalina was surrounded by toys; Jeff was mumbling happily to himself over his new claw nail clippers, and Timothy's parents were excitedly eyeing their own gifts.  
  
"I'll go make breakfast." His mother said after a while, putting down the oak chest made for paints that she received from his father.  
  
"I want to help!" Kalina jumped up and followed her into the kitchen.  
  
Timothy was flipping through his new book when his father got up.  
  
"Come with me, Timothy… there's one more thing."  
  
Curiously, Timothy followed his father back into his parent's bedroom. His father went to the closet and pulled out another Christmas gift. He handed it to Timothy then sat down next to him on the bed.  
  
"What is it?" Timothy asked, tearing the paper.  
  
"You'll see." His father grinned.  
  
Timothy opened the box and gasped. Something silver lay folded in the box. He picked it up and it felt as if it were made of liquid. Timothy slowly looked up at his father, beaming.  
  
"Is this…?"  
  
His father nodded.  
  
"It belonged to my father's father, my father, and myself. Now, I believe it's time for it to belong to you."  
  
Timothy stood up and wrapped the infamous Invisibility Cloak around himself, then stepped in front of the dresser mirror. He jumped when he saw the last of himself disappear under the cloak. His father laughed.  
  
"Whoa…" Timothy whispered, pulling it off. He ran and hugged his father.  
  
"I just don't want to hear of any major infractions from Hogwarts involving this, though." His father warned him.  
  
"Harry! Timothy! Breakfast!" His mother called from the kitchen.  
  
"Coming!" They both cried, getting up. Timothy pocketed the cloak as his father took his shoulder.  
  
"By the way," He said walking into the hall. "You haven't told me about what you think of the map."  
  
Timothy smiled.  
  
  
That evening, everyone got dressed for Christmas dinner. It wasn't long before they were stepping out of the Weasley's fireplace and became instantly surrounded by people.  
  
"There they are!" Cried Mrs. Weasley, coming from the kitchen.  
  
Timothy was her first stop. The gray haired, plump woman, pulled him into a stifling hug. He turned red as she grabbed his cheeks and kissed him several times. As soon as she turned to his sister, Timothy was slapped on the back by Mr. Weasley. He toward over him, his red hair no longer red but a light shade of gray as well.  
  
"My goodness, you're getting big." He said, smiling down at him. "How's Hogwarts treating you, hmm?"  
  
"Fine." Timothy replied curtly.  
  
"Hey Timothy!"  
  
Timothy looked over into the extended sized family room to see it crowded with more people he knew. All the Weasley brothers were there, as well as Ginny and her husband Tod Marlin. It wasn't until he saw a small flash of red hair come running at him that he realized where his Godparents were.  
  
"Hey Jacob." Timothy said, eyeing his "cousin". He was the same age as Kalina, but a couple inches taller.  
  
As he ran off to greet Kalina, Timothy was approached by his Godparents.  
  
"Look at you!" His Godmother, Hermione Weasley, cried. She pulled him into a hug.  
  
"Merry Christmas, Timothy." His Godfather said, ruffling his hair.  
  
"Merry Christmas to you too… and you Aunt Hermione." Timothy replied with a smile, before being pulled away again and turned to face his Great Uncle Us.  
  
"Hey you, don't I get a 'Merry Christmas' too?"  
  
"Sure! Merry Christmas Great Uncle Us!" Timothy cried, hugging him.  
  
It was the usual family scene. Timothy went around the entire Weasley house, saying hello to everyone. Fred and George Weasley sneaked some exploding holly berries into his hand with a wink as he walked by. His Uncle Lupin came last, greeting Timothy with a broad smile.  
  
By dinner time, everyone was seated at the very magically extended dinner table. The kids, Timothy included, were at a smaller table at the very end. His mother brought his plate towering with food, as well as Kalina's. Jacob sat across from them, and he and Kalina kept kicking each other under the table. Timothy laughed at them, and was told off by his mother.  
  
Grace was said, and the whole room was filled with the noises of clanging plates and silverware. That was, until…  
  
"Hey! That's right! Just leave Jeff at home, he doesn't have to eat! He's just a dragon after all!"  
  
The whole room turned to see Jeff, huffing and puffing, sulking into the dining room from the direction of the fireplace.  
  
"Jeff!" Timothy, his parents, and Kalina cried.  
  
"Oh yes, acknowledge me now, thank you." He muttered.  
  
Timothy looked over to see how his parents would react. Both of them were looking at each other with worried expressions as they turned to everyone.  
  
"Sorry," His father said, half to the table and half to Jeff.  
  
Everyone looked at each other, then burst out laughing. Jeff looked indignant as they did so, and sauntered over to Timothy.  
  
"And you, of all people… forget me? Oh… oh! Oh, woe become me!" He draped his foreleg over his eyes in a dramatic pose. "No… us little subjects of society are left to wander aimlessly around to fend for ourselves while the tyrants of the world engage in higher activities to-…"  
  
"Jeff. Stuff it, will you?" Timothy muttered, turning back to his food and rolling his eyes.  
  
"How can I?" Jeff snapped up at him, sitting on his feet. "I have no food to stuff it with!"   
  
"Here," He pilled a plate of ham and potatoes onto a small side plate and placed it on the floor for him. "Now eat and behave."  
  
"Yes, mother." Jeff mocked, picking at the food.  
  
"I want my own talking dragon too." Jacob muttered, stabbing his potatoes with his fork.  
  
"Jeff's the last of his kind." Timothy said to him.  
  
"You've got a cat anyway." Kalina reminded Jacob.  
  
"An old cat that doesn't do squat." Jacob stuffed his mouth hastily. "Buhht… I wonn… be aloneff… forrr longgeh." He added with his mouth full.  
  
"What do you mean?" Timothy asked him.  
  
"Mum…" He swallowed. "Mum told me that I'm going to get a brother or sister soon."  
  
"Really?!" Kalina squealed, nearly knocking her milk over.  
  
"Good luck." Timothy smiled, glancing at Kalina slightly.  
  
"Wow," Kalina sighed. "And you know what? Aunt Ginny told me that she's gonna have a baby soon too!"  
  
Timothy simply stared at her. Yet another cousin to add to the list.  
  
  
When dinner was over, the large party dispersed to handle the crowd while exchanging gifts. Timothy received a singing toothbrush from the Weasley twins, a sweater from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, a leather bound journal from his Godparents, a hearty supply of the best chocolate from Hogsmeade from his Uncle Lupin, and loads of other trinkets. Last of all, Timothy was pulled outside in the snow by his Great Uncle Us and was handed a small package.  
  
"What is it?" He asked curiously, picking apart the paper.  
  
"Oh, I dunno…" His uncle fibbed.  
  
Timothy grinned up at him as he opened the box within the paper. Inside was something he had only seen pictures of.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"It looks like an old Muggle pen, what Muggles use to write instead of quills. However, it's not your ordinary pen… as things are in the magical world. Use it to write down a question, then leave it standing on it's tip when you're through. It should write an answer back." His uncle said, pulling the pen out from it's box.  
  
"Wow! Thanks!" Timothy took it from him, grinning.  
  
"Oh, and one more thing…" He took a look around, smiling mischievously. "If you want to see something funny… stand in the middle of a corridor at Hogwarts and simply look upward at the ceiling. Wait and see how many people actually come and stop to look up at whatever it is you're supposedly looking at. It's hysterical! Then just shrug and walk off! Oh, your grandfather and I did that all the time. It drove the professors crazy!"  
  
Laughing together, they walked back inside.  
  
  
Timothy couldn't remember how he got home that night. He simply knew that one moment, he was sitting between his father and his Godfather, and the next he was tucked away in bed. Timothy could just make out his mother leaving his room when he spoke.  
  
"Hey, mum?" He whispered.  
  
She turned and looked kindly at him, her long brown hair bright from the light in the hallway.  
  
"Yes, sweetheart?"  
  
"Will Christmas always be like this?"  
  
"What do you mean?" She asked quietly, walking in to stand by his bed.   
  
"I mean… I have a strange feeling that things are going to change." He was so tired, Timothy wasn't quite aware of where the question came from… or where they reply came from either.  
  
His mother sat down at his side, and looked at him quietly with an intense expression that she often gave.  
  
"Things always change, honey. That's life. However, no matter what happens, the joy of Christmas and it's meaning will never change."  
  
"Promise?" Timothy rolled over, his eyes drooping. He felt his mother's touch as she tucked his messy hair behind his ear.  
  
"As long as you have hope… and as long as you have love in your heart, it's a promise."  
  
He felt a soft kiss on his forehead, and Timothy fell asleep… but he could feel that his mother knew something… and that his unusual feeling was correct.  
  
A/N: Well? What do you think? I tried, didn't want it too dragged out. The rest of the story from here should be quickly paced up with the plot. ::giggles:: Alot of you love Kalina and Jeff... yes, Jeff is fun to write about. And Taku annoys the living jello out of me as well. Heheh. Oh, and some have mentioned about bringing back Mary Peacecraft. All I can say is, 'yall are psychic. 'Nuff said there. ::knowing giggle::  
  
http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com  
  
I've been having accessing probs with the site, so if you do too, just keep hitting the "refresh" button and yell at it a couple times. Works for me.  
  
AHHH! Must go put together my cultural events project and try to write about pieces of artwork that I've never seen before but claim I have. ::sheepish look::. See you!  
~OrcaPotter 


	10. John's Secret

A/N: ::nervous twitch:: Well, I just got done with my first two final exams. I won't say anything more on that, the nervous twitch should tell all. However, one of the most difficult is out of the way, that's the blessing. Anywho, this chapter is nice and long. It's leading up to the last few chapters, I expect there to be maybe 13 or 14. Not sure at this point. ::sigh:: Well, no stalling you now... get going! Read! Then review!   
DISCLAIMER: ::flops head first onto computer desk:: I disclaim... ::snores::  
  
  
Chapter Ten: John's Secret  
  
  
It was as if September the first was repeating itself again as Timothy stood before his family at Platform 9 and ¾ after the winter holidays. While the apprehension of "first day jitters" was absent, there was something nagging Timothy at the back of his mind as his father helped him load his trunk onto the Hogwarts Express. As he checked to make sure he had everything, his eyes fell upon the Marauder's Map he had brought home for safe keeping and it suddenly dawned on him.  
  
"Dad!" He cried, just as the train whistle blew.  
  
"What is it?" His father asked, while his mother soothed a somber Kalina.  
  
"I just remembered something I wanted to ask you!" Timothy said quickly, being jostled around as kids hurried to get on the train.  
  
Looking desperately around, his father turned back to him and looked at him apologetically.  
  
"Write me as soon as you can, send Windstone. You need to get on the train, it's just about to leave."  
  
"I would rather talk to you in person." Timothy whined as his father hugged him goodbye. They pulled apart and his father looked down at him, concentrating hard.  
  
"I'll see what I can do. Right now, you have to leave."  
  
Just then, Darian suddenly appeared behind Timothy and he grabbed his shirt collar just as the train began to move.  
  
"Come on!"  
  
"Bye Timothy! Behave yourself… and WRITE HOME!" Timothy's mother cried, waving.  
  
Timothy nodded as he was pulled inside by Darian, and quickly moved to the compartment window to see his sister running to keep up with the train. He waved at her, and she finally gave up, waving back feebly.  
  
"Did Jeff come back with you?" Darian asked happily, sitting down beside him.  
  
Timothy looked at him, and noticed for the first time since he got on the train that John was sitting in the far corner. His tall stature was slouched and he looked particularly glum.  
  
"Hey John. How was your holiday?"  
  
John slowly looked up at them and shrugged.  
  
"Uneventful." And he looked down at his feet again, saying no more.  
  
Timothy glanced at Darian, who shrugged as well and gave him a "no clue" expression.  
  
"You didn't answer my question: did you bring Jeff?" Darian repeated.  
  
Timothy grinned.  
  
"Yes." He said slowly, reaching into his pocket.  
  
Before he had left home, Timothy's whole family had an in depth discussion on Jeff and whether or not he could return to Hogwarts. Jeff insisted that he should, but wanted permission to stay with Timothy in the boy's dorm. This was too risky, but Jeff threatened to burn something if he had to stay with Echolocata Whisper another minute. His parents managed to make a compromise with him, and using Renee Potter's innovative magic, Jeff was now able to accompany Timothy anywhere he wanted!  
  
"Wha'dja do to him!?" Darian gasped, smiling and on the brink of laughter as Timothy pulled out a palm-sized yellow dragon.  
  
"I don't want to hear one word out of you!" Jeff squeaked with a voice of a chipmunk, pointing a threatening claw up at Darian.  
  
Both Timothy and Darian broke out into giggles as Jeff's miniaturized self scuttled impatiently on Timothy's hand.  
  
"It's not funny! I may be small, but I can still burn your little fingers!" Jeff squeaked hotly.  
  
"My… my fingers aren't that small anymore." Timothy managed to say between giggling.   
  
Jeff reared up onto his hind legs, resting his forelegs on his hips, then took a deep breath. A shot of flame snorted out of his nose and Timothy yelped, dropping Jeff.  
  
"Hey!" Timothy cried, no longer giggling and sticking the burnt finger in his mouth. Jeff pulled himself up off of the floor.  
  
"Would you mind not dropping me to my death? Landing face first and smashing my entire body into oblivion is not my idea of a good time!" Jeff was hardly audible from the floor. Timothy picked him up.  
  
"Don't do that again." He muttered, pocketing Jeff. Angry yelps and kicking issued from inside his pocket, but Timothy ignored him.  
  
"How was your Christmas, Darian?" Timothy asked, changing the subject.  
  
"It was great! Dad did get me a new broom. I spent a lot of the time practicing than anything else."  
  
Timothy was about to ask John, but seeing his tall friend's gloomy face reminded him that he already had. He was about to ask what went wrong, when Darian distracted him again.  
  
"So?"  
  
"So what?" Timothy blinked at him.  
  
"So, did you talk with your parents about what could be up with Smith?" Darian barked.  
  
"No… I completely forgot until I was just getting on to the train. I managed to tell dad I need to ask him something, but the train was leaving and there was no time."  
  
Darian looked at him scornfully, but his eyes were distracted back at the window.  
  
"What's that?" He pointed.  
  
Timothy turned to see a white blur trying to keep level with their compartment window. He flew it open and landing roughly on his lap was his father's owl.  
  
"Hedwig?" Timothy pulled the old snowy owl level to his face. She let out an exhausted hoot, holding out her leg which held a letter. He took it from her, then set her inside Windstone's cage, where Windstone let her drink. Timothy curiously opened the letter.  
  
"It's from my dad." He said aloud, jumping slightly as John had suddenly appeared at his side, peering at the letter. "He and my Great Uncle will be visiting Hogwarts on business with Dumbledore a week from today. He'll find some time to talk with me then."  
  
"What business could he be doing? Isn't he an auror? Why would he need to meet with Dumbledore?" Darian asked.  
  
"Dumbledore is in close relations with Mr. Weasley, the Minister of Magic. They must be on assignment. Mostly, my dad and my uncle go around investigating uses of dark magic. There's nothing serious anymore, like You-Know-Who, but there are still people out there who are stupid enough to try out some illegal things. There could be any number of different reasons why they're coming to Hogwarts." Timothy answered, folding the letter up and putting it into his other pocket.  
  
John finally spoke, his voice dry.  
  
"Should we take your father down to see the passageway and the rock itself?"  
  
Timothy thought a moment, looking to Darian, who looked back at him with an equal expression.  
  
"We would get in trouble." Timothy said, uncertainly.  
  
"Trouble? Your dad gave you his map! For all we know, he could have been in that same passageway a hundred times when he was at Hogwarts! If anyone knows how to banish a three ton boulder out of the way, it would be him!" Darian threw his hands up in the air.  
  
"But only his dad and his two uncles know about the map. If it was discovered, all of us could get in trouble." John agreed with Timothy quietly, looking calmly at Darian.  
  
"Oh come on! Tell me, who would punish Harry Potter and his friends for something they did a long time ago? Besides! Who would care how we discovered the passage when we reveal what Smith's been doing behind that boulder? Forget about getting in trouble, think of how famous we'll be for revealing Smith!  
  
"Speaking of boulders; John, did you find anything in any book that could help us move that boulder in case we can't get his dad down there?"  
  
"No." He replied, turning away. Darian stared at him, open mouthed. He gave up and looked back pleadingly at Timothy.  
  
"Think of it as revenge, Timothy. Think of what Smith did to you! Don't you want to get him back for it?"  
  
Timothy looked at him, considering his words. It would be nice to get back at Smith, but he remembered something his parents once told him about revenge. Wanting revenge breeds hatred in your heart, until it drives you mad, finally leaving you as an empty shell once it has been fulfilled. It is better simply to wait, for your foes will eventually pay the price they have taken from you. He finally shook his head.  
  
"I'll tell dad about the way Smith has been acting, both toward Luna and toward me. But I won't tell him about the boulder."  
  
Darian gasped, flabbergasted at Timothy and narrowed his eyes. He said nothing more for the rest of the trip back to Hogwarts. The compartment was silent; John stared at the floor the whole time, seemingly lost in deep thought. Darian looked angrily out the window, never looking back, while Timothy simply stared ahead and deliberated in his mind on whether or not he made the right decision.  
  
I have a whole week to make up my mind, if I want to tell dad about everything. He thought to himself.  
  
  
The weather was grim during the first few days of lessons. It wasn't a very pleasant atmosphere, and it made Timothy feel more apprehensible toward his conversation with his father at the end of that week. Darian acted real smug towards both him and John, while John himself simply stayed silent and chose not to involve himself any further. It was all up to Timothy, and it made him feel even worse without his usual support.  
  
"Don't worry about it," John muttered to him at dinner on Thursday, seeing Timothy gloomily playing with his creamed corn. "I'm sure your dad can sort it all out. Then we can stop worrying about stupid Smith." However, there was doubt in John's voice and he said nothing further on the subject.   
  
Rumors spread somehow, like rumors did at Hogwarts, that the famous Harry Potter would be coming to the castle. Numerous people asking if they could get autographs or even meet his father in person often confronted Timothy. He would simply shake his head and push himself through. Only, it started to dawn on Timothy that the only people he had yet to bump into were Luna Dine and Taku Smith. In fact, he hadn't seen them since he arrived back at Hogwarts. On Friday morning, Timothy mentioned this to Darian, even though they had not spoken since they got off the Hogwart's Express.  
  
"Smith could have Luna tied to a stake and be dancing around her like an Indian, hooting and hollering right now, behind that boulder. But I know you're reluctant to do anything about it, so I don't know why you care." Darian said smugly.  
  
Timothy scowled, annoyed beyond control at that point.  
  
"Oh come off it will you?! The least you could do right now is to put off your dreams of being glorified and look at things logically!" Timothy half growled, half shouted.  
  
Darian blinked at him.  
  
"Alright Aristotle, we'll do it your way. But if we eventually find Luna hexed into a salami sandwich and see Smith raising the dead behind that boulder, don't blame me."  
  
Darian became more sensible by that afternoon, rehearsing with Timothy about what Timothy would tell his father. By noon, Timothy, with Darian looking at him cross armed and leaning against the main corridor, impatiently paced up and down. Deep-voiced conversation that he could only recognize as his uncles and his father, Timothy stumbled to the foot of the main staircase to greet them.  
  
"Dad!" He cried, smiling for the first time that day.  
  
His father came into view, beaming, with his Great Uncle Us and Uncle Lupin behind him. They ran to each other, and his father practically picked him up in a tight embrace.  
  
"Hey! There you are!" He cried, Timothy's uncles coming to stand beside them smiling. His father put him down and placed a hand warmly on his shoulder. "How's Uncle Lupin treating you, 'eh?"  
  
Timothy grinned.  
  
"His is the best class!"  
  
Lupin blushed, Timothy's Great Uncle Us punching him in the shoulder. Timothy's father smiled knowingly, nodding at Lupin.  
  
"That I believe, no doubts there."  
  
By then, Darian had wandered awestruck to stand by Timothy, staring at his father.  
  
"This must be Darian; hello there." Timothy's father offered his hand.  
  
Darian, completely mute with admiration, stuck out his hand and shook it slowly.  
  
"H-hello." He whispered timidly.  
  
Timothy grinned slyly at Darian, his friend no longer had the cocky attitude he had earlier once face-to-face with his father.  
  
Harry Potter sighed through his nose, used to Darian's expression.  
  
"I have some papers to grade, Harry, so I must get going." Lupin sighed. Timothy's father nodded and hugged him briefly. Lupin smiled at Timothy, hugged his Great Uncle Us, and left back up the stairs.  
  
"I understand you two want to talk. I'll just go see if I can grab a bite in the Great Hall." Great Uncle Us said, leaving for the Great Hall and ruffling Timothy's hair on the way.  
  
Timothy's father glanced at Darian and raised his eyebrows at Timothy.  
  
"Oh. Hey, er… Darian, can you give us a minute?" Timothy asked quickly.  
  
"Huh?" Darian was still staring at Timothy's father. Timothy shot him an annoyed look and Darian snapped out of it, nodding meekly and leaving, glancing back every few steps to stare back at them. When he was out of sight, Timothy's father took him by the shoulder and they found some chairs to sit down in the corridor.  
  
"So, what was it that was so important?" He asked.  
  
"Well, it's a long story." Timothy nervously tapped his foot.  
  
"Emm… well, give me the abridged version."  
  
Timothy glanced around to make sure they were alone, then sighed, and started quickly at the beginning. His father stared intently at him, his face expressionless the whole time. When Timothy reached the part where Smith offered him lessons, his father stopped him.  
  
"I see… I understand."  
  
"What?" Timothy asked.  
  
"You've got yourself another Malfoy." He answered bitterly, looking away. "My own father had Snape, I had Malfoy, and now it appears you have yourself a school nemesis too. This Smith person is jealous and thirsty for power, so, he's against you because you're popular."  
  
"I figured that. But dad, there's something else."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Smith has this unusual grudge against a Hufflepuff too. She's a first year like me, only a little smaller. She knows something important, and whenever she tries to tell me what it is, Smith always shows up and she's frightened stiff. He won't allow her to tell me whatever it is. She almost did, in the library, but all I got out of her was that I was in danger… involving Smith… and something about an offender."  
  
His father stared at him a moment, considering him.  
  
"Hmm… that doesn't make sense. He's up to something. Is that the only thing he's been doing that's more than unusual?"  
  
Timothy bit his lip. Should he tell him about the passageway?  
  
"I told you about the map you gave me. Well, we saw Smith in one of the hidden passageways… you know, the one behind the suit of armor. We… er… we sorta went to investigate one day when he wasn't there. Just to see what he did in there. All we found was a giant boulder blocking the passage halfway, and then on the map we noticed that Smith was not on Hogwarts grounds… when only just minutes before he was in the library."  
  
"Are you, Darian, and John the only ones who have noticed how Smith's been acting?"  
  
"I think Professors Visser and Jackson suspect him of doing something, especially Professor Visser. Smith did something to him, altered his memory with a memory charm. Visser saw Smith come out of the passageway, and Smith caught him. The memory charm didn't have full effect, because Professor Visser put up a warding charm, but too late to block it entirely. He feels he doesn't have enough evidence to blame him for anything and tell Dumbledore."  
  
"How do you know all this?" His father asked, half-suspicious, half-proud.  
  
Timothy blushed, shuffling his feet.  
  
"We overheard them talking in front of the suit of armor, just before we went inside it."  
  
They fell silent, Timothy watching his father nervously for a reaction. He seemed to be discussing something in his mind, then stood up.  
  
"I'll have a chat with Professors Visser and Jackson before I leave. Then I'll talk to Dumbledore. Don't worry," He added seeing Timothy grow pale with the thought of getting in trouble. "I won't tell them everything. I just want to know their views on this Taku guy. Then I'll check with the Circle. Your Great Uncle should have some insight, and your mother I'm sure will help."  
  
Timothy nodded, getting up himself, and walked with his father to the main staircase. The bell for the first afternoon class rung, and Timothy ran his hand shakily through his hair. People began to trickle out of the Great Hall, but stopped abruptly, pointing and shouting.  
  
"Look! It's Harry Potter!"  
  
"Really? Let me see!"  
  
"Get me my quill! I want his autograph!"  
  
"Do I look alright?"  
  
"Shut up, Ashley, he's married, remember?"  
  
"Oh right."  
  
Timothy's father smiled quickly, then looked down at Timothy.  
  
"I need to go before I'm flooded like a Muggle movie star. I'll come see you before your Great Uncle and I leave, alright?"  
  
Timothy nodded, just as people began pushing up to him. His father waved at everyone… and so quickly Timothy thought he used some sort of spell, he disappeared up the stairs and out of sight before anyone could catch him. Sighing deeply, Darian nearly crashing into him as the flood of students bustled past them, Timothy went to get his school things and get to his next class.  
  
For the rest of the day, Darian bugged Timothy relentlessly for news about his conversation with his dad. John would say nothing, but key his eyes up to look at them both with interest. Timothy grew annoyed, his mind wanting nothing more but to focus on what his father would do, and all he would tell Darian was that his father would tell him before he left.  
  
Sure enough, just before Timothy, John, and Darian went up to Gryffindor Tower to turn in for the night, Timothy's father and Great Uncle came walking swiftly towards them.  
  
"Well boys, something definitely is going on. I'm going to take it up with the Ministry and the rest of the Circle. If anything more happens, send Windstone. Otherwise, Timothy, your mother and I are going on assignment."  
  
Timothy nodded, feeling relieved that both his parents will be taking care of this matter and now he won't have to worry about it anymore. Darian looked excited, but John had an expression of helplessness. Timothy's father noticed, and he turned to him.  
  
"I take it that you're John. What's troubling you?"  
  
John stared at him long and hard for a moment, then looked away and shook his head.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
Timothy and Darian glanced worriedly at John, then back at the two aurors.  
  
"We better go Harry. Renee's expecting you and Cott's been mailing me all week over the last sighting of a Grim. You take care of yourself Timothy, we'll keep in touch." Timothy's Great Uncle Us said, hugging him briefly then walking off down the corridor.  
  
Timothy's father smiled feebly and took him in a long hug. They parted and his father ruffled his hair. He looked down at him sternly however and took his shoulder.  
  
"Don't do anything stupid. No risks. I don't like this Smith fellow, and I don't want you crossing his line. That goes for the two of you too," He added, looking over to Darian and John. "Stay alert, but don't do anything that'll attract Smith's attention. Let us aurors take care of it."  
  
With a last hug, Timothy watched his father wave and walk quickly to join up with his Great Uncle. The front doors boomed closed and Timothy, looking longingly at where his father left, followed Darian and John up to Gryffindor Tower.  
  
  
Winter changed into spring, and absolutely nothing happened. Timothy kept in touch with his parents, but they had no more news than he had. Timothy made every effort to stay out of view from Smith, but always glancing just enough to see what he was doing… but despite Smith's behavior earlier in the school year, Smith acted like his normal pompous self. Luna, on the other hand, Timothy hardly saw at all. She avoided him at all costs, and suddenly, she was no longer in Herbology class.  
  
"Why isn't Luna Dine coming to class, Professor?" Timothy asked Professor Zan.  
  
"She has dropped the subject under special permission from the headmaster." The professor snipped a Zimph plant distractedly.   
  
"Why?!" Timothy barked. Herbology was a general course, required to graduate. How could Dumbledore let anyone drop the class?  
  
Professor Zan dropped his shears and turned hotly to Timothy, staring at him with exasperation.   
  
"That is not your concern, Mr. Potter. Now you better help Mr. Hall with his Zimph stems or he'll be sporting shorter limbs!"  
  
Timothy turned to see Darian, his face tight with surprised fright as he wiggled the flesh-eating plant around the table- the plant snapping furiously while Darian attempted to tie the several purple stems together. However, he was not getting anything accomplished except drawing the whole class's attention and clearing all the supplies off the work table as he swung the plant in it's pot around like mad. John was standing off to the side, a distant look on his face. He had been acting that way ever since they returned from the winter holidays, and always avoiding answering questions about what was wrong. Timothy gave up with Professor Zan and went to help Darian, grabbing the pot and pressing a place on the exposed roots which calmed the blood-thirsty thrashing of the purple Zimph plant.  
  
"This class is going to see the end of me, I promise you that." Darian muttered angrily as he finally tied the stems together.  
  
"Luna dropped the class." Timothy said suddenly.  
  
Darian stared at Timothy, then glanced back at John. John looked indifferent, seeing it safe to come back to the table.  
  
"Why?" Darian asked, beginning to clip again.  
  
Timothy shrugged.  
  
"Zan won't say. But I have a feeling why."  
  
"We need to tell your dad."  
  
"We need to ask Dumbledore." Timothy countered, crossing his arms.  
  
"Timothy's right," John spoke suddenly, making both Timothy and Darian drop their arms. "We need to confront Dumbledore. If the aurors are in on this, so would Dumbledore."  
  
The following Saturday, they used the Marauder's Map to locate Eian Dumbledore's office. Timothy couldn't remember where it was located, because the last time he was there, he was too worried to pay attention to the exact directions to get there. However, as they approached the stone gargoyle guarding the door, Professor Slimak suddenly appeared behind them.  
  
"What are you three doing here?" She asked sternly, but calmly.  
  
Timothy hastily stuffed the Marauder's Map into his robe pocket before she could see.  
  
"We wish to talk to the Headmaster." John answered politely.   
  
Professor Slimak shook her head.  
  
"I'm sorry boys, but the Headmaster is out on business for the weekend. Could I be of help?"  
  
Their shoulders sagged, and they shook their heads.  
  
"Well, run along then."  
  
"What now?" Darian growled, arms crossed as the three of them made their way down the main staircase.  
  
"I don't know anymore." Timothy said helplessly.  
  
"Darian, that's impossible." John said abruptly. Timothy and Darian stopped.  
  
"What's impossible? I didn't say anything."  
  
John looked at him a minute and the next his eyes were wide like dinner plates and his mouth groped for words.  
  
"I… I… I… sorry… I-I thought you did. Never mind." He continued walking. Timothy and Darian glanced at each other. Darian's face was growing with suspicion.  
  
"How could he have known…?" Darian whispered to himself.  
  
"What?" Timothy asked.  
  
He shook his head, but glanced up at John with intent wonder. Timothy was about to ask again, when he bumped into John.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
John had nearly walked into an adult they had never met before. She was a very pretty woman and most likely a professor. The professor had turned to them and was smiling most particularly at John. After a moment, John jumped. He backed up from her, shaking his head and stopped a yard behind Timothy and Darian.  
  
The professor turned her attention to them, her smile broadening at Timothy.  
  
"I meet a shadow of the past through the eyes of the present. An honor to greet you at last, Timothy Potter."  
  
Timothy said nothing, only nodding slightly. The professor turned to Darian.  
  
"Darian Hall, nice to meet you."  
  
"How'd you know our names?" Darian blurted out.  
  
She laughed.  
  
"Well, there's no contest as to who Timothy is. But, Darian, you should know. You told me your name yourself."  
  
Timothy and Darian looked at each other, puzzled.  
  
"No I didn't."  
  
"My name is Professor Peacecraft. I'm the Divination professor. I knew your father, Timothy. You need to tell him how proud I am of him for discovering his purpose. I didn't get a chance to see him the last time he was in the castle. But I could feel him when he was here… and he has concern for you."  
  
"How do you…-?"  
  
"I'm an empath. I can feel emotions and thoughts from others. It's something you're born with. The last time I saw Harry Potter, I was five years old… the year Hogwarts was host to all the magical children in Britain. I was in his group, he was a Prefect and in charge of us. Your father has a special form of empathy, since he is an Etam Luos… I helped him find your mother, Timothy."  
  
Before anything else was said, she looked back over to John, who was looking pale.  
  
"If you wouldn't mind, John. I'd like to speak with you in my office for a while."   
  
John, at first, didn't move. But after his eyes made contact with Professor Peacecraft's, he nodded feebly and stepped forward. Professor Peacecraft then smiled at Darian and Timothy.  
  
"I'll return him to you. Don't worry, he's not in trouble." She took John's shoulder and led him into her office, closing the door. Timothy and Darian just stood there, staring at the door, then finally moving down the corridor.  
  
"What was that all about?" Darian whispered.  
  
Nearly half an hour past before the door to Professor Peacecraft's office opened and John appeared. His expression was that of deep thought as he approached Timothy and Darian. Timothy was only just beginning to think of speaking before John raised his hand.  
  
"I'll… I'll tell you later." He whispered, and with that, he left without looking back towards Gryffindor Tower.  
  
  
Timothy and Darian found John later that evening, hidden in the shadow of a far corner in the Gryffindor common room. They approached him cautiously, and when he did not acknowledge them, Timothy pulled a chair over for himself.  
  
"John…?" He asked quietly, Darian following his lead.  
  
"It's nothing you've done." John whispered suddenly.  
  
Timothy didn't react, but Darian did.  
  
"Ok! That's it! How're you doing that?! Huh? How do you know- what… I'm… thinking?" Darian trailed off in realization, looking at Timothy. Timothy stared at his eyes, then his own widened in understanding. He looked to John, who began to nod.  
  
"I thought that if you knew what I was… that you would want to stay away from me. Like my family." John muttered sadly.  
  
"Why does your family want to stay away from you?" Timothy asked.  
  
"Because, before I was born, an empath prophesized the death of my older brother. Empaths don't normally predict the future, so my parents were skeptical. They didn't take the warning seriously. One month before I was born, my brother went out with a friend. A friend the empath foretold that would be his downfall. My parents knew the family, a respectable one, so the boy couldn't possibly be dangerous." John sighed, his eyes beginning to grow glossy. "That boy was a Death Eater. The empath's prophecy came true.  
  
"As soon as I could speak full sentences, the signs of my abilities as an empath were visible. My parents couldn't handle it. They blamed the empath for the death of their first son. So I was taught not to use my abilities, and punished if I ever used them. It's almost as if they blame me too."  
  
Timothy didn't know what to say. For a few moments, no one said a thing, the common room silent as students went up to bed.  
  
"Is that why you were hesitant in wanting to go home for Christmas?" Darian asked quietly.  
  
"And why you weren't happy when you saw them?" Timothy added.  
  
John nodded, sniffling a little.  
  
"I've been hiding my abilities ever since I walked onto the Hogwarts Express. I let it slip earlier, to you Darian. Professor Peacecraft knew what I was and spoke to me telepathically. That's why I was afraid. But she told me that it was alright to use my powers… that I should. If I keep them suppressed for too long, there can be some bad side effects."  
  
Timothy thought a moment.  
  
"John, if you've been an empath all this time, have you known all along what Smith and Luna have been up to?"  
  
John shook his head sadly.  
  
"My powers haven't been trained. I can only feel those who are directly next to me. Smith has never been close enough for me to know exactly what is on his mind. But I do know that he's associated with the Dark Arts. I haven't been close to Luna at all since after she started acting strange."  
  
"What are we going to do?" Darian said helplessly.  
  
"I'll tell you what you're going to do. You're going to go to your dorm. Now."  
  
They all jumped. Taku Smith, his eyes glaring at all three of them, was standing darkly against the light of the fireplace. Timothy felt his heart race twice it's normal pace, afraid that Smith overheard something. They got up and began to leave the corner… much too afraid to even look at Smith. But Timothy suddenly got an idea. He looked imploringly at John, who immediately understood. John made his way to walk past Smith, brushing against him slightly.  
  
"Watch it Stanton!" Smith barked, recoiling and wiping off his robes like John dirtied them.  
  
John looked directly into Smith's eyes and held them there for a fraction of a second. Then he went to follow Timothy and Darian up the stairs and into their dorm… Smith watching them intently with his arms crossed.  
  
"Well?!" Timothy whispered once the door was closed.  
  
"We need to get behind that boulder. And I know how."   
  
Darian grinned excitedly.  
  
"Oh yeah baby! We've got a date with one bad boulder!"  
  
  
A/N: Well, how was this one 'huh? We're reaching the climax as our three heros venture back to confront the annoying giant blocking boulder. What will they find lurking behind it? Will Smith find out that they're onto him? Where's Luna? How will the pieces of the puzzle fit together at the end? Do I even know the answers to these questions? I guess I'll find out. Heheh.  
With half-days and vacation starting Thursday, expect chapter eleven up early. Well, maybe maybe not.  
Hey... guess what? I'm now a part of Alohamora.com's Harry Potter Fanfiction Writers Association. There will soon be a link at RENEE'S SITE:   
http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com  
It has new fan art and stuff! Including the title to my upcoming 1-part fic!  
'Yall are cool, you know that?! Your reviews ROCK! So, keep 'em coming! ::smiles broadly::  
I got a Celtic CD and now I have a sudden urge to do a jig or something. Hmm... well, I've square danced to BMX before at the homcoming dance. So I guess I wouldn't look too odd, considering I've never danced a jig before. Oh don't mind me, I've been stressed to the max THANKS TO ALGEBRA2! Let's all put our hands together for Mr. Arterburn for putting together an exam that you can't possibly complete in two hours! There you go, my infamous rambling. I'm gonna go now. REVIEW! hahah... caught ya! Thought you would get out of here before reviewing.. did you? ::giggles like mad then takes another swig of Hawaian Punch::  
~OrcaPotter  



	11. Behind the Boulder

A/N: Holy fruitcakes! I thought I would NEVER get this up! Man, you would think that being on vacation would give you LOADS of time to write and get things posted, but noooo... well, Christmas was AWESOME for me, how about you? I got TONS of books! Some I've read and wanted my own copies of, and some new ones... reading galore! Woohoo! To go with it all, one of those nifty backrest pillow thingies... comfy and really spiffy! Let's not leave out that mom got me a heck of alotta HP stuff, including really neat bookends (although, I'm slightly peeved that Harry's hair is BROWN)... and those neat journals that my Godparents gave me. I also got one of those awesome Windstone dragon figures! The green emerald baby hatching from the egg. It's awesome! Oh dear, I'm rambling (how'd you know I'd say that, huh?) Anywho, I'm sure you'll LOVE this chapter, it's full of really juicy contents... and it wrote itself... really, I had NO CLUE what was going to happen in this chapter. But, trust me, it's good. At least I think so. Well, read this, and REVIEW! Thanks, see you below!  
DISCLAIMER: Bah humbug.  
  
  
Chapter Eleven: Behind The Boulder   
  
  
The following morning, Timothy, Darian, and John woke before anyone else in Gryffindor tower. They quietly got dressed, packed their wands, and Timothy pocketed the Marauder's Map just as they softly closed the dorm room door and crept down to the common room.  
  
"Just where do you think you're going?!"  
  
Timothy jumped, as well as Darian and John. Violent kicks came from Timothy's robe pocket and the three of them let out a unanimous sigh of relief.  
  
"I asked you, where are you going so early?!" Jeff's tiny voice shrieked from inside the pocket.  
  
Timothy pulled him out and held Jeff up to his face, his eyes narrowed.  
  
"You either be quiet or I'll put you back in the dorm."  
  
"I think you should put him back in the dorm anyway." Darian grumbled in a whisper.  
  
"Shh… someone's gonna hear!" John warned.  
  
Jeff looked intently into Timothy's eyes and jumped in realization.  
  
"You're going to go against your father's orders and go back into that passageway, aren't you? Aren't you?! What if you're caught? Huh? Think of what you're mother would say if she found out you disobeyed!" He stuck his claw out toward Timothy's nose.  
  
"Oh, shut up." Timothy said, but his voice wavered as he considered what Jeff was saying. Darian, however, was not phased and before Timothy could do anything, had lifted Jeff from his hand and began to walk back up to the dorm. Timothy was about to protest when the door to their dorm opened before Darian reached it and out stepped Bran.  
  
"I thought I heard all of you leave." He yawned rubbing his eyes.  
  
Darian quickly whisked Jeff behind his back, the little yellow Jefforagon squeezed between his hands. Jeff began to issue smoke as Darian squeezed tighter when Bran eyed him curiously.  
  
"Wha' you up to?"  
  
Darian, as well as both Timothy and John at the bottom of the stairs, shook their heads quickly with forced smiles.  
  
"Oh, nothing." Darian said casually, backing down the stairs just as Jeff began losing his yellow color and was beginning to turn a shade of blue. "Shouldn't you get back to sleep, Bran? Isn't there a Quidditch match today?"  
  
Bran kept his wondering eyes on the three of them, but nodded sleepily.  
  
"Are you guys going to come and see? You haven't seen a single match this school year."  
  
Timothy managed to grab Jeff and stuff him back in his pocket, covering the Jefforagon's mouth before he could protest. Darian kept walking backward, forcing Timothy and John to mimic him.  
  
"Oh, I dunno… we've got some studying to do in the library today. You know… the OWLs and such tests like that coming up." Darian waved his hand dramatically in the air.  
  
Bran narrowed his eyes in suspicion at all three of them.  
  
"We don't take the OWLs until our fifth year."  
  
Timothy angrily elbowed Darian.  
  
"Uhh- errr… yeah, well… you can never start studying early enough, you know." Darian stammered, rubbing his arm painfully.  
  
John leaned over to Timothy.  
  
"He suspects us… highly. I can feel it, even from here." He whispered in his ear.  
  
"Darian…" Timothy moaned warningly.  
  
"Well… uhh… see you later then, Bran. Get back to bed 'cause we want Gryffindor to win, you know!"  
  
They quickly turned around and headed straight for the portrait hole. As they closed the portrait of Hagrid behind him, the giant's snores echoed off the hollowed hall. He flinched slightly as the portrait slammed into place, but didn't wake as Timothy and the others tiptoed down to the stairwell.  
  
"You…. trouble… man!" Jeff was hardly audible from Timothy's pocket. As much as he loved and admired the yellow Jefforagon, Timothy ignored him as he, Darian, and John got closer to the suit of armor guarding the passageway's secret entrance. Once it was in sight, Timothy pulled out the Marauder's Map and revealed it.  
  
"Where's Smith?" John whispered.  
  
Timothy and Darian peered at the map. For several moments, nothing was heard as they searched… but just like the time before, Smith was no where on the map.  
  
"This isn't good," John whimpered. "He could be behind that boulder right now! If we open it we'll be face to face with him!"  
  
Darian rolled his eyes.  
  
"Just when I thought we've brought out the rebel in you, John, the whimp had to return! What happened to 'we have got to get behind that boulder'? Huh?"  
  
"I knew you were going to say that." John smiled slyly.  
  
Darian snorted.  
  
"Yeah. Right."  
  
"Guys, come on. Whether Smith is behind the boulder or not is what we have to find out. We just get down there to see what's behind it, then get out and contact my parents. They can take care of it from there. John? You sure you know how to move the boulder, right?" Timothy said.  
  
John nodded.  
  
"It was like Smith was broadcasting it for me to hear on purpose."  
  
"'K then, let's go."  
  
The three of them scanned the corridor for anyone around, Timothy double-checking the Marauder's Map. Then, quickly, Timothy managed with Darian's help to pull the suit of armor out to reveal the hidden entrance. John grimaced as he followed them through, and then pulled the suit of armor back into place behind them. Timothy and Darian allowed John to go first, all three of them taking out their wands and lighting them. They silently walked onward, and Timothy couldn't help but to feel second thoughts.  
  
"Now you do." John muttered silently, shaking his head. Timothy rolled his eyes.  
  
"I'd like to keep my thoughts to myself, if you don't mind." He said shortly.   
  
Even with the dim light of the wands, Timothy could see John blush deeply.  
  
"Sorry." He whispered, and began to walk quicker.  
  
It wasn't long before they came up to the huge boulder that blocked the rest of the passage. Timothy and Darian looked expectantly at John, who surveyed it carefully with deep concentration.  
  
"Well?" Darian crossed his arms.  
  
"Give me a minute, I've never done magic like this before." John said over his shoulder.  
  
"You got an entire spell from Smith's head in that second you were in front of him?" Timothy asked with disbelief.  
  
John looked back at him with a slightly cocky grin.  
  
"Well… yeah."  
  
"You sure you can do it?" Darian pressed.  
  
"I'll try."  
  
With that, John backed up from the boulder and readied his wand. He extinguished it, and Darian and Timothy held out their wands higher to make up for the missing light. They backed up too, both looking at John apprehensively as he furrowed his brow in deep focus, staring intently at the boulder.   
  
"If this goes wrong, prepare to run." He said absentmindedly.  
  
"If this goes wrong, I'll slap you." Darian muttered.  
  
"Can we get this over with?" Timothy sighed, exasperated.  
  
"Yes." Both John and Darian said in union. John took a deep breath and stood up straight, his tall stature now towering over Darian and Timothy.  
  
"Veriduccio!"   
  
A loud crack of red light shot out from John's wand, and Darian let out a girlish shriek that almost made Timothy laugh. He flinched and nearly ducked out of instinct, however. Yet, looking at the boulder… it was not blasted to oblivion or knocked to the side like he expected. Before his very eyes, the three of them with their mouths gaping open, the boulder simply dissolved into nothing… revealing the rest of the passageway before them.  
  
"Wow." Timothy gasped, turning to John, who looked very pleased with himself.  
  
"I knew that would happen, really." Darian said, blushing and quickly issuing forward to hide his face.  
  
"Well," Timothy said, the three of them now silently staring down the rest of the passage, which looked identical to the first part of it. "Let's go, then."   
  
John lighted his wand again, and Timothy led the way past the spot where the boulder had been.  
  
"Wait," John said, stopping. "Smith is not on the map. Right?"  
  
Timothy checked the map, Smith was still no where to be seen on it. He nodded at John.  
  
"What if he's at the end of this passage?"  
  
Timothy looked at Darian, who gave him a long look.  
  
"I guess we'll soon see." Darian said, starting to walk again.  
  
The passageway was dark and gloomy, exactly like the end near the entrance before the boulder. It seemed to go on forever in a straight line with a curve now and then. They walked for so long, in fact, that the air of nervousness was hardly there anymore. Now they trudged along in silence, feeling tired and achy. Much to Timothy's dismay, the long walk of not knowing what they were walking to allowed his mind to deliberate on if what they were doing was right.  
  
Dad said not to do anything like this… to let him know of anything unusual that happened. However, mum did say to investigate if I were to see something. Yet, they both said not to do anything stupid… and to just let them know anyway before I did anything. The thoughts in his mind toyed with him, one minute feeling guilty and ashamed, the next feeling like he was doing the right thing.  
  
Suddenly, Timothy felt something tapping on his head.  
  
"Wild one, what have you got yourself into now?"  
  
Jeff was sitting on his head, tapping his tail roughly on his hair.  
  
"How'd you get up there?" Timothy grumbled.  
  
"One word. Claws."  
  
"Figures." Timothy sighed.  
  
John and Darian glanced up at him, but didn't intervene.  
  
"Do you realize what your mother is going to do to me when she finds out that you've gone off doing this? She may be from Florida, but she inherited that New York death-stare from her own mother. I can't stand that! And your father! When Harry Potter chases you with his wand and he's just a little bit T'd off, watch out! I still have the scorch marks from that father of yours that would make ladies faint!" Jeff complained quickly.   
  
"You don't have to come along you know. You can turn back here. Plus, you didn't let me go. I let myself go. You have nothing to do with this." Timothy said shortly.  
  
Timothy could see a jet puff of smoke drizzle from his head in front of his eyes.  
  
"Are you kidding? If I turn back alone now, I won't get back inside the castle 'till next Tuesday! You do realize that I'm the size of a baked potato you know."  
  
"More like a baby potato." Timothy muttered quietly.  
  
"I heard that." Jeff snapped.   
  
"Listen, if we don't do anything now, who knows what Smith will do? I haven't seen Luna for ages and she hasn't been in Herbology because she suddenly dropped the class. She could be in trouble, and it may be too late before mum and dad get here to do anything about it." Timothy said.  
  
"You know your parents, though." Jeff accused. "They're not your average wizards. If it's really that big of an emergency, they'll be here before you could blink."  
  
"I know." Timothy sighed, rubbing his arms.  
  
"Then why are you doing this?!" Jeff cried.  
  
"Because!" Timothy stopped dead in his tracks, looking up through his bangs at the yellow tip of Jeff's snout. "Because I want to do something about this myself! I don't want to be known simply for my name, but for something useful that I've done… like my parents! I can't just step back anymore and let my parents do things for me. This I want to do on my own… to do something good. Luna could be in trouble, and now's my chance to pay her back for trying to help me."  
  
Jeff said nothing a moment. Both Darian and John had stopped as well, looking sympathetically at Timothy. When he glared at them intently, they looked away.  
  
"But Luna warned you." Jeff said quietly, and was silent.  
  
Timothy opened his mouth to counter him, but stopped.  
  
"Come on, Timothy. What do you want to do?" Darian asked gently.  
  
"Keep going." Timothy made up his mind, beginning to walk. "I'm sure we can handle it."  
  
John sighed loudly, and Timothy knew that John felt what he was really feeling inside. Timothy tried not to think about it, putting a look of determination on his face and walking faster. Several more minutes past before anyone said anything more.  
  
"I think I see a light!" Darian gasped finally, holding his lighted wand out further.  
  
Timothy snapped out of his mental lock and slowed his pace. Sure enough, a dim firelight began to show itself ahead of them.  
  
"I don't have a good feeling about this." John whispered, shaking his head.  
  
"John, when do you ever have a good feeling about anything?" Darian rolled his eyes.  
  
John scowled at Darian, and Timothy ignored them. Jeff began to scuttle off of Timothy's head.  
  
"Don't say I didn't warn you, Timothy. I'm going back into your pocket."  
  
Timothy frowned and grew even more nervous with the thought of not having Jeff at his side.  
  
"What would mum say if she knew you didn't do anything to help me? What would dad do to you if I were to get hurt and you just hid in my pocket?" He said out of desperation.  
  
Jeff stopped and slowly turned to look into Timothy's eyes, his brows furrowed.  
  
"Ohh, I get it… yeah, aren't you smooth? But in case you haven't noticed, I'M THE SIZE OF A BAKED POTATO! Have you ever heard of a fire-breathing baked potato attacking a psycho kid-wizard who may be working with the dark arts?! Oh yes! I can see it now! Headline of the Daily Prophet! PINT-SIZED RARE ENDANGERED JEFFORAGON ATTACKS AND BURNS THE TOES OF DERANGED PSYCHO KID! I'll be a celebrity and have my own action figures made that wouldn't look a thing like me."  
  
Timothy scowled at him, but his voice squeaked desperately.  
  
"Please, Jeff."  
  
Jeff cringed at Timothy's puppy eyes and sighed.  
  
"Hmm… get trampled by an egotistical kid-tyrant… or get trampled and hexed and cursed and condemned to spend the rest of my days as "Mr. Sniggles" having invisible tea with a five-year-old girl by the famous Harry Potter? Oh, and let's not forget lectured to death by the famous Renee Potter, forgive me for leaving that out. Well then, that's one tough decision to make!"  
  
"Jeff…" Timothy pleaded. Darian and John joined in on the intent staring at the little yellow Jefforagon.  
  
"Perhaps you didn't catch the enormous amount of sarcasm in that last statement." He piped. "Well? Let's go, right? Don't we have to go rescue the damsel in distress and defeat the evil guy? Come on, move your butts! Go, go, go!"   
  
Timothy grabbed Jeff in his hands and beamed at him, then placed Jeff on his shoulder. He grinned at John and Darian, they both gave him encouraging smiles. Together, side by side, the walked defiantly toward the light.  
  
The light got brighter as they approached silently. Timothy began to hear something.  
  
"Hear that?" He whispered.  
  
"Yeah." Darian replied.  
  
"Sounds like someone crying." John muttered.  
  
"Luna." Timothy broke into a trot.  
  
"Timothy, wait!" John whispered hoarsely. "You don't know what's up there!"  
  
"Timothy… Timothy… TIMOTHY! What are you doing? Slow down!" Jeff squealed nervously in Timothy's ear.  
  
Timothy's mind was set, his wand was ready. He blocked out everything except wanting to confront Smith and expose him… then bring Luna back. The cries of his friends and the frantic calls of Jeff in his ear sounded far away. The light ahead of him got brighter and he began to make out shadows.  
  
"TIMOTHY! STOP!" John and Darian yelled.  
  
Timothy did. He skidded to a halt as he reached the end of the passageway, standing before a small caved room. It was circular in shape, made out of rock, obviously. Nothing was in it except a small fire in the middle and...  
  
"Luna!" John and Darian, panting, skidded to stop just behind Timothy.  
  
The small, hunched figure of Luna Dine was shivering next to the fire. Her shoulder-length brown hair was straggly hanging over her covered face. Her hands were clutching something close to her body, and she was rocking back and forth as she sobbed silently. Luna didn't react to hear Timothy.  
  
"Luna?" Timothy asked cautiously. Despite the frantic grabs that John and Darian made for Timothy's robes, he stepped forward cautiously and felt Jeff dig his claws nervously into his shoulder. "Luna, it's us. It's OK."  
  
She didn't look up or say anything, continuing to rock and sob. Whatever it was that she was holding close to her chest Timothy could not make out. He stood in front of her with a worried frown, deliberating in his mind whether or not to bend down and force her to look at him. Thinking it was best, Timothy slowly bent down to face her. Luna's hair covered her face, it was all matted and stringy. She had been in this place for a long time, Timothy thought.  
  
"Luna, it's me… Timothy. Come on, I'll get you out of here." He said gently, parting her hair. She flinched violently and Timothy stopped instantly with a start.  
  
"Timothy. I don't like this. Let's get a professor, come on, this is more than we expected." Jeff whispered in his ear.  
  
"We have to get her out of here," Timothy whispered back. He looked over his shoulder to both Darian and John, who looked pale. "Come help me get her up."  
  
They slowly and hesitantly crept closer to come stand on either side of Timothy.  
  
"No," Luna whined suddenly, shaking her head and making her hair fling from side to side. "Just Timothy. Just Timothy… oh, Timothy… I'm so, so sorry!" She began to sob louder. Timothy flushed red and held out his hand.  
  
"Come on, stop that. We'll get you out of here and get someone to deal with Smith. My parents will come."  
  
"Timothy… I'm not so sure about this…" John's voice was full of warning, he was looking intently at Luna. "This is not what it seems."  
  
"Come on Luna, let's go!" Timothy took her left arm and started to pull her up, but she fought him.  
  
"It's inside… it's inside!" Luna wailed, now pulling out her right arm. Shaking, she held out her fist toward Timothy and turned her hand palm up to reveal a black, cylinder-like object.  
  
"What's that?" Darian gasped.  
  
"A little place of forgetting." Luna sobbed, tears streaming from her eyes.  
  
Timothy took it from her and she cried louder, flinging her face away and burying it in her hands. He turned it over and over and saw that it was almost like a telescope, with an eye piece at the end, only there wasn't another end to look out of.  
  
"Timothy… Timothy don't…!" John shouted as Timothy brought the object up to his eyes to look inside. Luna screamed and Darian leapt to grab the object from Timothy… but it was too late.  
  
The howl of a wind from no where suddenly whistled in Timothy's ears as the eyepiece made contact with one of Timothy's deep blue eyes. Instantly he felt himself pulled forward into the object. The wind blew his hair back violently and his glasses nearly fell off. He tried to scream, but the loud rushing of wind deafened any other noise. Just when he started to feel sick, Timothy felt himself crash onto solid, grassy ground and dirt. He groaned, spitting grass and mud out of his mouth and rolling onto his back. His wand was tangled in his robes and Timothy painfully moved his aching muscles to retrieve it. With his wand in his hand, Timothy managed to stand up and see where he was.  
  
He was standing in the middle of a field. Fog and darkness surrounded him, along with a wall of trees so thick… it had to have been a wall of some sort. Rubbing his arms painfully, Timothy turned around on the spot to see no path or any sign of civilization.  
  
"Ah, how the young do grow."  
  
Timothy whisked around and saw, a few yards off, a tall cloaked man in a shadow. A wave of fear washed over him… he had an odd feeling he had met this man before.  
  
"If I were a few feet shorter, I'd say I was facing my old rival… Harry Potter." The man, his voice full with malicious coy, walked slowly toward Timothy. "Harry Potter without the scar… but that can be changed."  
  
As the man got closer, Timothy began to back away. A beam of light from some unseen source hit the man's face, and Timothy gasped as he saw the scar. The long scar that stretched from the man's left eye down to the corner of his mouth. Along with the pale, graying hair.  
  
"How very like your father you are, Timothy. Both of you have prevented the rise of the Dark Order. Yet this too… will be changed."  
  
Timothy said nothing, too frightened to speak. This was the man that was his father's enemy. The man that nearly killed him in his bedroom when he was five years old. If it weren't for the ghosts of his grandparents, Timothy would not have been alive.  
  
"My dear cousin's nephew had me so very worried. Why I entrusted him with my ingenious invention, I'm not sure. But it was the only way. The only way to get to the weakness. I'm actually surprised that the young fool had enough wit in him to enlist his own cousin to help. Oh, Taku?"  
  
Suddenly, Timothy was grabbed from behind. He looked frantically over his shoulder to face Taku Smith, who was smiling ruefully at him. Draco Malfoy, grinning with malice, stepped in front of Timothy and leaned down to face him.  
  
"Do you know where you are, young Potter?" He continued before Timothy could answer. "You are in a place where no one can find you. A place of my own invention. I've slaved laboriously over my dream child for the past six years for this sole purpose. For you see, you are the weakness. The only weakness of the two people that I've hated since I knew their names. The two people who saw the fall of my master… allowing me to see the fall in them. That is my purpose. I will take over what my foolish master left behind. I will do what he couldn't! I will destroy the Potters!"  
  
Timothy, although quaking uncontrollably with fear, shook his head slowly.  
  
"You can't kill my parents," He squeaked. "They are Etam Luoses! They are ten times more powerful than you can ever dream of being!"  
  
Both Malfoy and Smith laughed savagely until Malfoy was reduced to tears.  
  
"Oh… oh, my dear boy… that's quite funny. Here you are, completely defenseless against me and my young cousin here, and yet you still talk bravely of your parents! Oh! Oh, this is too sweet."  
  
Timothy squirmed to free himself from Smith's grasp, but he only held him tighter.  
  
"I would never know this runt to be a Potter, he's so small and weak. He's nothing, like I said. Nothing at all, but a name!" Smith crowed, grinning ruthlessly at Malfoy.  
  
Malfoy nodded with a sly grin, folding his hands behind his back and paced before Timothy.  
  
"How true, how true. Well then, cousin… let the runt go. Let him get used to his surroundings, for he'll be here a long time!"  
  
Smith let go and kicked Timothy face forward in the grass, laughing and striding over to stand next to Malfoy. He looked nothing like Malfoy, only the tall and menacing demeanor showing any relation. Timothy spat grass out of his mouth, recoiling slightly as he saw red splattered on the ground as well. He felt his lip to see that it was cut and bleeding.  
  
Timothy wasn't sure what made him do what he did next, only that he knew he was outraged and afraid… making him jump to his feet and charge at Malfoy. He threw out his wand like a sword and screamed. Malfoy, slightly surprised, didn't move. To Timothy's confusion, he ran right through him.  
  
"Hahah! So sorry, did I forget to mention that we're not really here?" He laughed louder at the sight of Timothy's utterly perplexed expression. "This is my invention, the Offender's Oubliette. Myself and my young cousin Taku here are actually not too far from where I need us to be. You, on the other hand, are really here in this little place of forgetting. There is no way out, and the only way to get in is to look inside the cylinder tube that you yourself did so perfectly according to plan. The offender, that's you, looks in… and becomes trapped in the oubliette. Quite ingenious, no?"  
  
"Actually, Draco, it was the French that came up with oubliettes. A lot of old castles have them, you know, little dungeons where prisoners were put to be forgotten?" Smith added, but recoiled and silenced himself immediately at the venomous look Malfoy gave him.  
  
"So, my young Potter, here you will stay. And doesn't it feel good to know that you're responsible for the demise of your famous parents? The world will know that because of Timothy Potter, Harry and Renee Potter died because of his foolishness. Oh, and don't worry about your dear little sister, she won't be a problem… and no amount of ghosts will protect either of you now." His gaze bore into Timothy's eyes, and Malfoy began to laugh again. Smith summoned up courage to laugh uncertainly along with him.  
  
Timothy let out another roar of rage and charged again, but with the laughing still ringing in his ears, both Malfoy and Smith vanished into vapor before Timothy could reach them. Timothy stood there in the growing dark mutely and in shock. He couldn't believe this was happening. All around him was a wall of fake trees, he assumed now. Nothing else was in view. He dropped his wand weakly, staring at his feet until his sight began to grow hazy. Hazy with tears. Before he knew it, Timothy sank to the ground and began to sob.  
  
"It's all my fault! Oh, what have I done?! Oh, mum… dad… I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry! I didn't mean… I didn't know…"  
  
He pounded the grass with his fists, the ground becoming wet with his tears. His cries echoed around him, making Timothy feel small and more feeble. He truly felt like all the things Malfoy said about him. Because of him, his parents would die. His sister too. All because of him.  
  
Timothy curled up into a tight ball and his cries became muffled. For a long time, he stayed that way, feeling the weight of a disappointed world upon his shoulders. He didn't remember ever falling asleep, but he must have… because he had a dream.  
  
He was running, running through a dense forest of huge oak trees. There was a shimmering silver light ahead of him, that was what he was chasing. No matter how hard he pushed himself to run, the silver light stayed exactly the same distance away. But there was a voice in his head…  
  
Come see. Come see. Come on, follow me.  
  
"Slow down!" Timothy cried, his voice echoing in his head.  
  
Follow me. Follow me.  
  
The trees were beginning to thin out, and Timothy abruptly found himself entering a field. A field very much like the oubliette that he was trapped in. The silver light he was following he could see now was that of a stag. A silver stag, seemingly beckoning him further out into the field. Timothy broke out into a run again, and the silver stag disappeared. Panting, but not feeling out of breath like he should had been, Timothy stopped and heard more voices. Two voices… a young voice and a much older one. He walked toward them and saw two people. A boy taller than himself and the familiar figure of Draco Malfoy before him. They were apparently locked in a duel. The boy, from the backside, looked very familiar. At first he though it was his father… but he caught one word from Malfoy that told him it wasn't.  
  
"Timothy Potter."  
  
Suddenly, at his side, the silver stag appeared. Timothy had a strange feeling he knew what it was, only he couldn't remember. The stag looked into his eyes and deep past them… seemingly reading his thoughts and emotions. It's voice, too, sounded familiar… only it spoke in his head.  
  
Have faith in yourself, Timothy. You are more important than you think you are. Don't give up… you're a Potter… and our family never looses faith. Let your heart guide you, and your family will always be by your side. And so shall I.  
  
"But how do I get out? How can I make a difference?" Timothy pleaded, shaking his head.  
  
Have faith. Your heart will guide you.  
  
With that, the stag disappeared… as well as the older version of himself dueling with Malfoy. Everything went black, and Timothy awoke with a start. He was still in the Offender's Oubliette, lying damp in the grass.  
  
"Let my heart guide me." He said to the air.  
  
Timothy got to his feet and wiped the wet grass off of himself. Looking around, he figured that he must do something. No matter how useless it was. Grabbing his wand off of the ground, Timothy began to walk the perimeter of the oubliette. The edge was a solid wall, made to look like a forest of trees. He reached his hand up and dragged it behind him as he walked along the wall. It felt like he was walking forever, not once feeling or seeing anything that may have been a way out.  
  
"This is pathetic. I'm getting no where. So much for my stupid heart." He muttered, dropping his hand by his side.  
  
"Heart of courage, heart of fears, speak of which… this wall has ears."  
  
Timothy jumped. He heard someone speak, a loud, echoing and old croaky voice… but there was no one there but himself.  
  
"Who said that?" He demanded, holding out his wand in a fighting position.  
  
"Thy ask a question, who gives a reply, who doesn't matter… this wall has no eye."  
  
"Wall?" Timothy whispered. Slowly dropping his wand back to his side. "Wall? You mean to tell me that a wall is talking to me?"  
  
"To speak needs a mouth, a mouth needs a face, to have both is to be human… this wall has no race."  
  
Timothy looked directly at the barrier which looked like a solid forest of trees.  
  
"Who are you?" He asked, incredulously.  
  
"Who doesn't matter… this wall has no eye." It repeated.  
  
"Ooo kaay." Timothy breathed. "Well, I'm Timothy Potter and I'm trapped in this stupid Offender's Oubliette. Can you tell me how to get out?"  
  
"A heart of courage, a heart of fears, show which one's stronger… brake the Glass of Tears."  
  
"Glass of Tears?" Timothy asked slowly. "What's that?"  
  
"Only the brave, only the strong, see past your weaknesses… decipher the song." The wall continued.  
  
"Song. Now, hold on a moment… you need to explain…"  
  
"One must find, one must master, the entrance is hidden… your wit makes you faster."   
  
"Now hold on a moment! How am I going to do this?" Timothy shouted.  
  
"Your heart knows the way, it won't give you wrong, listen real well… discover the dawn." The wall then fell silent. Timothy pounded at the wall with his fists in panic.  
  
"What does that mean? Where is it? Where's the Glass of Tears?"  
  
Silence. The oubliette returned to it's dark and silent order. Timothy stood there, breathing heavy and his heart racing with confusion. He ran his hand through his messy black hair and looked around. Nothing gave any clue as to where a secret entrance may be, let alone something called the "Glass of Tears".   
  
The darkness began to fog Timothy's glasses, so while clearing them off with his rob sleeve, Timothy walked the perimeter of the oubliette again.  
  
"Figures to have a metaphoric wall in a magical prison." Timothy mumbled to himself angrily.  
  
For what seemed like hours to him, Timothy scaled the wall and even ran his hands over the grass in search of any clue that might lead him to anything. As pointless as it was, he kept telling himself to keep looking. Beads of sweat dripped over his eyes and nose, even though the air was cool and misty. As each moment passed, Timothy grew angrier. Finally, he screamed out in anguish and threw his back into the wall. It didn't matter that he was thin and slightly smaller than average, he threw his whole weight into the wall. He bellowed in anger and made one last blow to the wall before falling to the ground in a heap, panting and aching terribly at the sides.  
  
"There's no way out!" He cried out to no one.  
  
With another grunt of anguish, Timothy swung his fist around and into the wall… literally into.  
  
"What the…?"  
  
His fist has gone straight through the wall, as if it weren't there. Anger now totally forgotten, Timothy's eyes were wide as he slowly pulled his fist out and examined it. Cautiously, he stretched back out his arm and his fist went right through again. With a glance back at the rest of the still dark and silent Offender's Oubliette, Timothy leaned forward and his body fell through the wall. Instantly, warm and orange light hit his eyes, and Timothy threw up his arm to shade his face and squint to see forward.  
  
"Dawn." He whispered.  
  
Slowly, Timothy began to walk forward… forward to what, he wasn't sure.  
  
A/N: The hard part was where to leave off in this chapter to begin the next one... I believe I left you off at a good cliffhanger! Ah, how I miss writing those! The last chapter did not have as big a cliffhanger as this one, no? Like I said before, I had NO IDEA what was going to happen... I still don't! Heehee. I love how my mind works, and it's amazing since I'm now and addict of Zelda. You know, the N64 game? The first one, not the second... I wanted the first one first, makes sense, doesn't it? I've been battling that awesome game and going to read... then go back to the game.... blah blah blah. Mom has been dragging me away and going shopping. SO, I have not gotten to write as much as... well, as much as I intended to do. I have discovered that I'm at my creative peak at night after a hot shower, so that is my time to write. For at least an hour or two.  
Now, my webpage provider is being a #%@#$^$^#$^#%@%^@%#^& and I have been unable to access the site AND update it for the past several days. Keep trying to get there, 'cause I am... I have to get my news to you somehow. My new year's resolution is to learn HTML and build my OWN site. That begins with either personal help or a program that most likely won't be obtained until my birthday a month from now. Until then, deal with:  
http://www.theworldofreneepotter.disneyfansites.com  
Well now folks, I perdict at least one more chapter from this point for the first Timothy story. I won't ask you know if I should continue with Timothy after this. When this is done, that one parter will be worked on and then it's off to my novel. SO NOW I SHALL STOP BECAUSE ZELDA IS CALLING ME, MUST BEAT THIS... THIS... I DUNNO, THIS BAD DUDE THAT KEEPS KILLING ME. SO, now at this point you shall REVIEW, REVIEW, AND REVIEW SOME MORE! This was a spankingly long author's note, sorry.... am I not known for them? Heehee!  
If you want to bug me for news 'cause you can't get to the site, feel free to email me! Don't worry, I don't mind! OrcaMorph@aol.com  
::magnetically pulled to N64 controller and begins to play::  
~OrcaPotter 


	12. Darkness Returns

A/N: With the coming of 2001 brings the end of Timothy's first series. I decided to end Discover the Dawn at this chapter for more reasons than one, but fear not! As you will discover by the end of this chapter I have made it possible for a decent sequel. Or, at least I hope it'll be decent, it depends on you and your fantastic reviewing skills! So, read this last climatic (did I spell it that right? Oh, I could care less right now, I'm in a rush to get done before I go out to Downtown Disney again... I'm seeing "Cast Away"... ahem) chapter and be a really nice reader and review! Brace yourselves, long author's note at the end, heheheh.  
DISCLAIMER: I write, therefore I disclaim.  
  
  
Chapter Twelve: Darkness Returns  
  
  
The light continued to blind him, but Timothy continued to walk forward at a slow pace. Each sound of his footsteps seemed as if he were walking on metal. As he walked, the sound of his footsteps was not the only thing he began to hear. A low, mournful tune, playing the same three notes, grew louder as Timothy issued on toward the light. Just when he thought the light would never die and he would become blind, Timothy bumped into something hard and fell backwards.  
  
"Ah!" He groaned in pain, rubbing his forehead.  
  
Timothy crawled to his feet and realized that the light was no longer so bright that he couldn't see. Now, he faced a solid wall of glass.  
  
"This must be the Glass of Tears." Timothy said to himself, reaching his hand up and running it over the glass. The slow and deep three-note tune seemed to be echoing from the glass itself. He looked at it more closely and cocked his head as he began to make out something protruding from the glass.  
  
"Buttons?" Timothy ran his other hand through his hair, confused.  
  
No, they were cylinders inserted into slots on the glass. There were three of them. Timothy stared at each in turn, then shook his head.  
  
"What am I supposed to do?"  
  
As if in reply, the tune became louder… slower, emphasizing each of the three notes over and over. Timothy thought hard.  
  
"The wall said something about a song… to decipher a song."  
  
It was a puzzle. He had to figure out what the song meant. Timothy stared at the three protruding cylinders again in turn. They had something to do with it, they were the pieces of the puzzle.  
  
"How do I go about doing this?" He muttered to himself. After a random thought, and looking at the cylinder on the far left, Timothy reached up his hand again and pulled hard on the cylinder. After pulling with all his strength, it finally came out, and he nearly fell backwards again in doing so.  
  
"Now what?" He said, turning the clear cylinder over in his hands. Frowning, Timothy was about to put it back when a strange feeling came over him. He didn't know why, but he was beginning to feel… helpless. As he stared at the cylinder harder, the feeling intensified. He felt like he couldn't do anything. Timothy had never felt helplessness as intense as he was at that moment. Taking a deep breath, he hastily put the cylinder back. The feeling quickly went away.  
  
Reluctantly, Timothy took the second cylinder, the one in the middle of the wall of glass, out and held it. Another feeling came over him, but this time it was a feeling that he knew real well. The feeling of insignificance. That you couldn't match up to anything. As he looked at the cylinder in his hand, Timothy began to remember all the times he had cried while feeling so small. The feeling of nothing.  
  
He nearly dropped it, then caught it before it did then quickly placed it back in it's slot. Timothy was now very afraid when he began to slide the last cylinder out of the last slot on the right.  
  
This time, Timothy felt tears threatening to pour out of his eyes again as he held the last cylinder. A deep, soul wrenching feeling of loneliness and worthlessness washed over him. He felt his knees buckle and unknowingly dropped the cylinder.  
  
"What does it all mean?" He hissed through his teeth and ran his robe sleeve over his eyes to dry them.  
  
The three-note song continued, and as the horrible feeling left him, Timothy could think again.  
  
Three notes. Three cylinders. A cylinder could represent a single note, but how do I put the two together? He rattled his brain.  
  
"Helplessness. Insignificance. Loneliness. All three are unpleasant feelings, that's for sure." Shaking his head, Timothy bent down and picked up the last cylinder, cringing as he felt loneliness overcome him. As he straightened up, his head knocked into the middle cylinder on the glass wall and it fell out of it's slot. Timothy dropped the one he was holding in surprise, and cursed himself as the feeling let go of him and he looked at the two identical cylinders on the ground.  
  
"That's just great."  
  
He picked them up, one in each hand and paused. Strangely, he didn't feel any of the emotions that came out of the cylinders. They must cancel the other out if you held two at the same time. Without thinking, Timothy placed one in the middle slot. As he did so, the second note of the continuous tune became louder. He put the other in the last slot, and the last note of the tune became just as loud.  
  
Instantly, the three notes became so loud that Timothy covered his ears. The ground trembled and the glass before him, the Glass of Tears, started to crack. Yelling in surprise, but not hearing himself, Timothy threw his body to the ground just as an ear shattering explosion of glass erupted and the Glass of Tears shattered into thousands of pieces. Immediately, the same wind that brought Timothy into the Offender's Oubliette, began to whip him violently again… and he was pulled into the place where the Glass of Tears was.  
  
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"  
  
He felt himself thrown backwards, then slammed into something solid. Timothy slid into a heap, in which everything went black.  
  
  
"Wake. Wake up, Timothy."  
  
Timothy groaned, his entire body let out a spasm of pain from the blow to his back.  
  
"Wake up." Three voices demanded as one.  
  
He opened his eyes. Everything was hazy, but he could just make out three figures standing in front of him. Timothy's glasses were luckily not broken, draped over his arm and he pulled them on. His eyes focused and Timothy nearly screamed again.  
  
"Dad!"  
  
The second figure was surely his father, Harry Potter. Only, something was different. He seemed to floating slightly over the ground, and his body could almost be transparent. It was as if he were…  
  
"Dad… you aren't a ghost… are you?" Timothy scrambled to his feet, wincing in pain. He looked at his father, and his father shook his head. He looked to Timothy's left and there was another man looking just like him.  
  
"Who…?" Timothy gasped.  
  
"Your grandfather, Timothy." The man said with a slight and sad smile.  
  
"Are we…? Am I…?" Timothy felt faint, staring at the image of his grandfather.  
  
"No, Timothy." Came another voice.  
  
Timothy looked to the right of his father. Another man, looking just like his father and grandfather with the same unruly black hair and glasses looked intently back at him. He looked younger than his father and grandfather. All Timothy could do was gape at him.  
  
"That's right," The ghostly image chuckled silently. "I'm you. Timothy Potter. Only about twelve years older."  
  
"How… what… what is this?" Timothy began to shiver.  
  
"It's alright, son. Don't worry, you'll get out of here. We can't explain where you are or how we get here together, but what we are here for is to warn you." Timothy's father said, reassuringly.  
  
"Warn me?" Timothy's throat was dry.  
  
"There isn't enough time, only enough to tell you that you must find our family crest." Timothy's older self said quickly.  
  
"Family crest? What family crest?"  
  
"The Potter family crest. Our family name goes back to the time of the founding of the original Hogwarts castle. William Potter, our ancestor, was the most cherished student of Godric Gryffindor. Before he died, Gryffindor empowered a shield of magic bearing the crest of our family. It was predicted that a servant of the heir of Slytherin would become so powerful that only something made of pure good could destroy him. Once destroyed, all darkness shall be abolished, never to resurface. Your father has achieved his destiny by destroying the heir of Slytherin. Now you must achieve yours and destroy the servant." His grandfather said.  
  
"I have to destroy Malfoy?" Timothy asked rhetorically.   
  
"Don't tell anyone about the crest, you must find it on your own. I'm afraid even myself and your mother cannot help you." The image of his father began to fade.  
  
"Wait! Where is it? How… how am I going to do this?!" Timothy cried.  
  
"Follow your heart, it will guide you." His grandfather, too, faded.  
  
"No!"  
  
"Luna's not a bad girl, wild one… trust me." His older self vanished.  
  
Timothy rushed to the spot where the ghostly image of his older self was, but the wind returned, blowing him backwards against the wall again… and darkness descended once more.  
  
  
"Mrs. Potter, please… give me some space."  
  
"Is he bad? Will he be alright?"  
  
"If you would kindly step aside, I can look at him."  
  
"I came too late… I'm his mother and I couldn't do anything…"  
  
"Don't be silly."  
  
"Oh, I knew something was wrong! I knew it! Why didn't I sense it sooner?"  
  
"Shh, you could startle him if he wakes."  
  
Timothy kept hearing voices… one he recognized and one he didn't, really. They sounded so far away and he felt trapped under the darkness. He kept trying to call out but it seemed as if the darkness mocked him and only became heavier.  
  
"He can hear me… Timothy, Timothy wake up… wake up honey, it's me… it's mom."  
  
Mum? He cried out in his head, trying to push the darkness away.  
  
"It's alright, sweetheart. I'm here now, everything's OK. You're safe."  
  
"I need to get this potion down him, it will heal his back."  
  
Timothy felt something cold and bitter slide down his throat and he instinctively swallowed. The darkness seemed to become lighter and he no longer felt weak against it. With all his might, Timothy fought towards his mother's voice.  
  
"He's coming around! Timothy, come on honey, wake up… it's OK."  
  
Finally, light pierced his eyes. Everything was fuzzy; his glasses were off. He fought hard to focus on the face hovering above his and then felt his glasses being placed on his face. Timothy blinked and saw his mother, beaming with her eyes red and wet from tears.  
  
"Oh, Timothy… oh, sweetheart are you alright?"  
  
"Don't make him speak just yet. He's beaten up real bad and it'll take a while for the potion to give the full effect."  
  
Timothy looked over and saw another woman, the Hogwarts nurse and Darian's mother. She smiled kindly at him and then dimmed the lights.  
  
"You can stay with him, but he needs to sleep. I'll let you know when Mr. Potter arrives." Mrs. Hall left.  
  
His mother nodded and smiled at him, absentmindedly brushing his bangs out of his face. Her hand was shaking.  
  
"W-what… happened?" Timothy managed to whisper hoarsely.   
  
"Shh… don't worry about that now. Try to sleep."  
  
"Where's Luna? Where's Taku Smith?! He's… he's with Malfoy!" Timothy's heart began to race and he struggled to get up, but his mother kept him from doing so and pushed him back, gently, against the pillow.  
  
"Calm down! Hush, it's being taken care of. Your father's with Eian Dumbledore right now. Your Great Uncle Us and Uncle Lupin are out with the rest of the aurors looking for Malfoy. Mr. Weasley and Uncle Ron are on their way. So you're perfectly safe now, and I'm not going to leave you."  
  
"But…"  
  
His mother put her finger against his mouth and he quieted. It was then that he noticed a dull throbbing pain in his back and he grimaced.  
  
"Get some sleep, I'll be right here." She kissed him on his forehead and combed her fingers through his hair. Timothy's mind began to drain of thought, and exhaustion took over… making him fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.  
  
  
When Timothy woke up in early afternoon the next day, his father was sitting at his side. He beamed down at him, and Timothy noticed his mother asleep on his father's other side.  
  
"Hey there, look who's awake." His father whispered, ruffling Timothy's hair. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Better." Timothy rubbed his shoulder.  
  
"Your mum stayed up with you all night."  
  
His mother stirred and his father frowned guiltily.   
  
"What… what's wrong? Is he ok?" She turned and smiled with relief at Timothy, getting up and going over to the other side of his bed. "Oh, sweetheart… how do you feel?"  
  
"A lot better, mum."  
  
"You aren't until I say you are, young Potter." The nurse, Mrs. Hall, appeared out of no where and politely pushed his mother aside. She checked him over as his parents watched intently.  
  
"Can we now, mom?!" Cried a familiar voice from the door of the hospital wing.  
  
Mrs. Hall let out an exasperated breath, looking over at his parents. They nodded and Mrs. Hall sighed.  
  
"Alright, but just for a few minutes! And quietly!"  
  
Darian and John came bounding over to Timothy's bed. Darian looked excited and John seemed stressed, but relief washed over his face as he saw Timothy.  
  
"I thought you were dead! I didn't know what to do!" Darian got to the point immediately.  
  
"We'll be outside, Timothy." His father bent down and whispered in his ear with a smile. Then he and his mother left the hospital wing, followed by an annoyed Mrs. Hall.  
  
"There was some sort of spell over Luna, Timothy… I couldn't sense anything from her. If… if I had been trained… I would have seen it sooner. I'm sorry." John hung his head, his tall body sagging with guilt.  
  
"It's not your fault, John. You couldn't do anything, no one could."  
  
"Luna was bawling once you were sucked into that cylinder thing. I ran to get help, thank God Professor Dumbledore was walking back to his office when I got up there. He notified your parents… but they were out. He notified the Ministry, who eventually found them. No one would tell me anything more."  
  
"I stayed with Luna… she wouldn't accept any help. So I just stood there, standing over her while she cried and stared at the black cylinder. She kept muttering over and over how it was all her fault… and then she mentioned something else. Something about a glass… that you would find the glass. She said it was your only way out." John explained.  
  
"So what happened?" Darian pressed.  
  
Timothy began to explain what had happened after he was sucked into the Offender's Oubliette. Darian and John stared at him intently with unwavering awe. He was about to tell them about the Glass of Tears when his parents walked back in.  
  
"Sorry boys," His father said. "Timothy needs some more rest. You can talk to him tomorrow."  
  
Resentfully, but in no condition to vex Timothy's parents, Darian and John muttered good-byes and left the hospital wing. Timothy spent the remainder of the day being fussed over, much to his dismay.  
  
When Mrs. Hall finally allowed Timothy to leave the following morning, his parents led him up to Dumbledore's office.  
  
"He wants to speak with you. It's important that you tell him everything… it will help us catch Malfoy." His father said, his hand on his shoulder as they approached the stone gargoyle.  
  
But they won't be able to catch him, no matter what. Timothy thought to himself. And I can't tell them, they wouldn't listen… dad said so himself.  
  
Eian Dumbledore's office was just as it had been when he was there at the beginning of the year. Round, with the portraits of past headmasters and books covering every surface. He greeted them all warmly with a pleasant smile, issuing Timothy to sit down.  
  
"Perhaps, Harry… you and Renee should step outside and let me speak with Timothy alone. It would be less stressful, I believe." Dumbledore said politely.  
  
His father smiled reassuringly and patted Timothy's back, then after his mother kissed him gently on the forehead, his father led her out of Dumbledore's office. The office fell silent and Timothy, with wide and innocent eyes, turned to the headmaster.  
  
"How are you feeling, Timothy? Better?" Dumbledore inquired kindly.  
  
Timothy nodded politely in response.  
  
"I'm glad to hear that… what happened I'm sure was terrible. But I'm afraid that I'm going to have to hear your side of the story." The headmaster continued, his elbows resting on his huge oak desk and hands crossed.  
  
"My side?" Timothy asked meekly.  
  
"I have spoken with Luna Dine, the Hufflepuff first year that was involved. As well as your friends John and Darian. Taku Smith is in the custody of the Ministry, and I have overheard his interrogation as well."  
  
"You found him? You found Taku?" Timothy slid to the edge of his seat, his voice tight.  
  
Dumbledore nodded and the look in his eyes answered the next question that had just popped into Timothy's head.  
  
"You didn't find Malfoy." Timothy muttered, mainly to himself, and he slumped back into the chair.  
  
"He disappeared before any of the aurors could so much as raise a wand. But that's a topic for later discussion… and not for you to worry about. What you are here in my office to discuss right now is what happened down there in the passageway."  
  
Timothy looked up at Dumbledore's expectant expression, and when he said nothing more, Timothy took a deep breath and began to explain the details again. The full blow of what had happened didn't occur to him until that moment, and Timothy began to shudder. When he came up to the part about how he escaped, he hesitated.  
  
Eian Dumbledore studied his downcast eyes.  
  
"You found the Glass of Tears?"  
  
Timothy looked up at him in surprise.  
  
"How did you…?"  
  
"It was Luna Dine who put the glass there. The glass's original intention is uncertain; Luna was quite disturbed while being questioned. What we did managed to get from her was that she was being used by her cousin, Taku Smith…"  
  
"How is that possible?" Timothy interrupted, shocked.  
  
"Taku's father's sister is Luna's mother. Anyway, by threatening her family, Taku had her try to get close to you so that you would be lured somewhere undetected to use the Offender's Oubliette. Somehow, Luna managed to find out the purpose of the Glass of Tears and switched it with something else. Instead of killing you, it was supposed to do something else. But she was so distressed that she couldn't tell us more."  
  
"It was a puzzle," Timothy explained. "I had to solve a puzzle to get through."  
  
"What was the puzzle?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Timothy stared at him a moment, deliberating his words. Should he explain what the shadows of his grandfather, father, and future self told him he had to do? Would the headmaster believe him? From what his father told him about when he was in Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, Eian Dumbledore's father, believed everything unbelievable that his father told him. But like Timothy said to himself quietly before… no one would believe him… his father said so.  
  
Before he could stop himself, Timothy began to explain about the three-tone song, the three corresponding cylinders, and what he did with them. He told him about the feelings he felt when he touched each different cylinder. But after he got to the part where the wind knocked him out… Timothy stopped.  
  
"Is that all?" Dumbledore asked quietly.  
  
Timothy stared at him for a long minute.  
  
"Yes."  
****  
  
"You have failed me, cousin."  
  
"I… I…"  
  
"Stop stuttering, you fool! You have failed me!"  
  
"Yes… yes…"  
  
"Your sister… and all those associated… failed me also."  
  
"It was Taku, Draco. He has failed you most of all!"  
  
"You renounce your own nephew, do you Hewlett? Your beloved sister's son?"  
  
"Oh… oh, please… please have mercy! She's your cousin too! Family… pure blood. He… he wouldn't have failed if it weren't for the girl."  
  
Draco Malfoy's sinister eyes gleamed in the firelight of his unknown location. Hewlett Malfoy coward before him.  
  
"Ah yes… the girl. She is also related; Taku's cousin from his father's side."  
  
Hewlett nodded.  
  
"Do you actually believe that I will ignore this failure? That I will simply shrug and toss aside the six years of labor and sweat that I have been toiling over to advance my power? This will not do, this is not acceptable. This is what happened to the dark lord before me. History will not repeat itself! So close! SO CLOSE! I had the Potter's weakness in my grasp… and my own flesh and blood had to go and ruin it. Destroy it. To think that stupidity would run in the name of Malfoy." Draco twirled his wand in his hand, the fire glowing off of him. Hewlett began to tremble, shaking his head as he stared into Draco's eyes. The malicious and evil look that radiated from them bore into Hewlett, and he began to cry.  
  
"No… no!" He wailed. "Please… please no!"  
  
"Your sister has soiled the name, cousin."  
  
"No… have mercy… please, don't… don't… it's not Nora's fault!"  
  
"The girl also failed me… disgraced me. I don't let those who fail me go unpunished."  
  
"They're only children! Draco…"  
  
"Potter was an infant when he drained my foolish master of his powers the first time!" Draco raged. "Don't think I will take any chances! So," He seethed as Hewlett began to sob at his feet. "All those connected with your sister will be prevented from failing me again. And you will see to it… I will make that certain!"  
  
"NOOOO!"  
  
"Let it be known that you will not fail me again, cousin. Malfoys do not fail… and if you still have the gall to consider yourself true to your name… you will do whatever you can to ensure that our name will be just as feared as the master of dark before me."  
  
Two of Draco's Death Eaters came forward and dragged Hewlett, sobbing hysterically, out of the room. Draco turned to the fire and rubbed his temples.  
  
"Darkness has returned, Potter. I shall find a way to extinguish you."  
****  
  
Timothy's parents stayed at Hogwarts for a week, while many aurors came and went. His Great Uncle Us came several times and always found a moment to be with Timothy. He was greatly disturbed to hear about what had happened to him, and Timothy began to think that his Great Uncle made excuses to come back to Hogwarts to check on him.  
  
There was still a month and a half left of school, so when Timothy's parents found that they needed to leave the castle, it was another goodbye.  
  
"It's extremely important, Timothy, that if anything else should happen that you contact us and then tell Professor Dumbledore." His mother reminded him, bending down and fixing Timothy's shirt collar over his school robes.  
  
"Do you mind, Renee, if I could talk with him a moment?" His father asked her kindly.  
  
They exchanged another wordless conversation and then she finally nodded, kissing Timothy and then walking into the Great Hall from the corridor they were in.  
  
"Let's take a walk." His father took his hand and they slowly and silently walked the ground floor of the castle, eventually finding themselves outside. They walked a worn path in the grass and Timothy noticed that his father stopped them under a large oak tree. He remembered the tree from a few years ago, and the stone memorial that stood beneath it's branches confirmed that he remembered correctly.  
  
"He was the one adult, besides your Great Uncle, that I could confide in. The father I never had. I never knew what it was like to tell my feelings and my secrets to someone like that until I got to Hogwarts and met him." His father whispered, letting go of Timothy's hand and settling down on the grass. Timothy looked at him a moment, and sat down next to him, leaning against his side until his father put his arm around him.  
  
"From what I remember, he was really a nice guy. He gave me my glasses." Timothy said.  
  
His father laughed silently.  
  
"That's right, he did, when you were little."  
  
They fell silent, and Timothy felt a breeze ruffle his hair. He leaned closer against his father and could sense that there was something that his father wanted him to tell him. Timothy had an idea on what it was, but didn't say anything.  
  
"Once, I didn't tell Dumbledore everything. I was so used to keeping everything bottled up inside me. But then I found that I could tell him everything, that he would believe me, that he wouldn't get upset. And so from there on, I told him everything that had ever happened." His father said quietly.  
  
Timothy looked up at him.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You help yourself and help others when you tell the whole truth. Timothy, your mother and I talked with Eian Dumbledore after he spoke with you earlier this week. He told us about what you said. I suspect that you left something out."  
  
Timothy knew what was coming and remained silent, looking up into his father's green eyes.  
  
"Do you feel you can tell me anything that's troubling you? Don't you know that no matter what happens I still trust you, as my son?" His father looked down at him seriously.  
  
"Yes." Timothy said simply. But you yourself said that you wouldn't believe me. This is something that I obviously need to do by myself. He thought to himself.  
  
His father looked away, sighing.  
  
"Then why won't you tell me how you escaped the Glass of Tears, exactly?"  
  
"Because you won't believe me. No one will."  
  
"Try me." His father said, looking back at him. It was Timothy's turn to look away.  
  
"When I got to the glass, I heard a song. It had three notes, each being low and sad sounding. The song came from the glass, and on the glass were three cylinders sticking out of three slots across the top. When I touched the first one, I suddenly felt helpless. The feeling went away when I put it back. Then when I touched the second one, I felt insignificant. That too, went away when I let go and went to touch the third cylinder. That one made me feel lonely. I realized that each one represented a note in the song, and when I put them into order in the slots… I got through."  
  
His father stared at him as Timothy fell silent.  
  
"That's it?"  
  
No, afterwards I talked to you from the future, my future self, and my dead grandfather. Oh, and they told me that I was to find a family crest from over a thousand years ago to save the world by defeating Draco Malfoy. Timothy thought, not looking at his father.  
  
"These three feelings…" His father muttered after several minutes. "Have you ever felt any of those before? Any time in your life?"  
  
Timothy looked back at him, realizing that… yes, he did experience one of those feelings almost every day. Insignificance in the shadow of his parents. But should he tell him? Timothy half nodded, half shrugged.  
  
"One of them." He whispered.  
  
His father continued to stare at him.  
  
"Insignificance, right?"  
  
Timothy's eyes went wide and he looked away again, going red in the face.  
  
"It's alright, Timothy." His father pulled him into a hug and Timothy allowed himself to be comforted, not wanting him to let go.  
  
"The feeling I had, before I came to Hogwarts, every day… was loneliness. I didn't have a family… I didn't have friends. I couldn't talk to anyone, and I didn't even have a memory of my parents to comfort me. Completely alone. That feeling in the cylinder, I suspect, represented me. My tears. The one for insignificance represented yours. That leaves one more." His father said into his ear.  
  
"You never felt helpless?" Timothy's voice was muffled.  
  
"Not really, no. I doubt your mother did… no, I don't think she did. It must have represented my… my own father." His father's voice trailed off, and Timothy pulled away to look at him.  
  
"How did the glass know? How did Malfoy know?"  
  
His father looked down at him and considered him a moment.  
  
"I don't know, Timothy… we may never find out."  
  
Timothy's eyes met his father's, and his father's gaze bore into Timothy and past him. For a fleeting moment, Timothy felt that his father was going to tell him something… something important. However, there was uncertainty in his eyes and the moment was gone and his father broke the connection. He stared at Albus Dumbledore's memorial once more, then got to his feet.  
  
"Your mother will be worried." He looked down at Timothy. "Know this, you can always tell us anything at any time. When you need help, we'll be there as best as we can. And if a time should ever come when you need to face something alone, remember all that you've been taught."  
  
"Yes, dad." Timothy got up and followed his father back to the castle, hesitating a little before looking back at the huge oak tree that overshadowed the old headmaster's memorial.  
  
I'm scared. And I can't even tell my own parents. But I can tell you, because you can believe me. Timothy turned and ran to catch up.  
  
  
Things grew quiet at Hogwarts for the remainder of the school year. Timothy, John, and Darian spent a lot of time together in the common room. Timothy forced himself to forget about what had happened past the Glass of Tears for fear of John sensing anything. However, Jeff, knowing Timothy more closely for a longer time, was not fooled.  
  
"Wild one, you're preoccupied." The little yellow dragon said, crawling up to perch on Timothy's head.  
  
"I know I am, Professor Visser gave us a three roll report to finish and I haven't even started the second roll." Timothy sighed as he sat down alone in the dorm.  
  
"No, don't fool around with me… I know you… there's something else."  
  
Timothy frowned and began to grow tired of being drilled on what happened. Finally, to throw him off… and get some idea as to what he was to do, he asked Jeff:  
  
"Jeff, how much do you know about my family's history?"  
  
"No more than what your parents know, why?"  
  
Timothy sighed.  
  
"Nothing, just curious."  
  
At dinner that evening, Darian brought something up that made Timothy forget completely about his quest from the future.  
  
"Something does not make sense."  
  
"What?" Timothy and John asked with mouths full.  
  
"There's a big piece of the puzzle missing." Darian said while staring at his fork full of meat.  
  
"Yeah, you're eating it." Timothy laughed.  
  
"No, no, no. I mean with Luna Dine and Taku Smith." He turned to Timothy with a rare serious expression.  
  
"Taku is in Azkaban and Luna… well, Luna we haven't seen at all." John said, swallowing.  
  
"Don't you think we should find her and ask about what happened? You know, straight from the horse's mouth?"  
  
"What more is there to know? She was ordered by Smith to do what she did. It wasn't her fault, end of story." Timothy shrugged, taking another bite.  
  
John suddenly looked at Timothy with realization, Timothy took notice and stared at him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Remember when we first got here to Hogwarts, after the feast when we were being led by Smith up to Gryffindor tower?"  
  
"Yeah, what about it?"  
  
"Don't you remember what he dropped?"  
  
Timothy stared, and dropped his fork.  
  
"A black cylinder. The jerk had the thing the whole time. Before Christmas, when I talked to Luna… she told me about an Offender… the Offender's Oubliette. He picked on Luna because he could… because he was her cousin… and by doing so we got interested. That was all part of the trap, to get us interested and alone."  
  
"To get you interested and alone." John pointed out.  
  
"There's still something missing." Darian sighed, and continued to eat without another word. John turned to his food and continued as well, but Timothy couldn't eat any more.  
  
I need to talk to Luna. Maybe she knows something I don't.  
  
  
Timothy made every effort to search Luna out. He talked with the girls he knew she was friends with, talked with other Hufflepuffs, and finally even talked with people from other houses that she shared classes with. No one had any idea where she hid when not in classes… and she still did not come to Herbology.   
  
"What more is there to find out?" Darian asked. "Nothing's missing, I already figured that. You told us all there is to know about what happened."  
  
But he didn't, he never did explain to anyone other than his father about how he got through the Glass of Tears. What he wanted to know is what Luna did with the glass that brought him to the shadows of his future self and father, and of his long-gone grandfather. It was obvious she didn't want to tell.  
  
It came down to the last week of school, and everyone was gearing up for the last Quidditch match that would determine who would win the house cup. Gryffindor was out of the game, falling short a player at the last minute and not being able to find a replacement in time.  
  
"Now's your chance, Timothy." John said casually to him as they watched people leave the common room to watch the match. "Next year they have another space available… and Smith won't be on the team to vote against you."  
  
Timothy nodded, but his thoughts were not on Quidditch… but on Luna. If anyone could give him any insight as to where to start looking for his family crest, it would be her… she put the glass there, after all. He looked over at John, fearful that he would sense all this… but if he did, John said nothing.  
  
"No, I'm not reading your mind… but I know that if I were that you want to go looking for Luna while the whole school's at the Quidditch pitch, am I right?" John said suddenly.  
  
"Darian left to get seats… but I won't be there. Do you mind going and telling him for me?"  
  
John smiled a friendly smile and stood up, grabbing Timothy's hand and pulling him up.  
  
"Sure thing."  
  
They walked to the portrait hole, and Timothy glanced back at John. By doing so, he noticed that they were the last ones in the common room. John looked back too, then quickly placed his hand on Timothy's shoulder before he could move out.  
  
"What?" Timothy stopped and turned around.  
  
"You and Darian are my best friends, you know that… right?"  
  
"Of course, Too Tall." Timothy smiled, he and Darian had began calling John "Too Tall" because of his towering height for his age.  
  
John laughed to himself, then quickly looked seriously into Timothy's eyes.  
  
"I can trust you to tell you something, as I hope you trust me to tell me anything."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I'm going to see Professor Peacecraft every now and then for private lessons in my empath abilities."  
  
"That's good, John."  
  
"But I want you to know, that I'll never use my abilities without permission. You don't have to worry about me reading your mind, or anyone else's, unless I have your permission… or their permission." By John's voice, Timothy knew he was giving a promise.  
  
"Thanks." Timothy smiled faintly.  
  
"There is one thing, however…" John said as Timothy turned to leave once more. "One thing that I'm having a hard time ignoring."  
  
"What's that?" Timothy looked back at him.  
  
"Your reason for talking with Luna. Something major and important… having something to do with the difficult times that I feel are coming. You play a role in that, and you know it. I want you to know that you can tell me and that you have my word that I won't tell a single soul as long as I live."  
  
Timothy considered him a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.  
  
"When I know what it is I'm doing, I'll know I can tell you and Darian."  
  
Timothy left and didn't wait, for John stood in his spot for a moment longer, looking at the spot where Timothy was before going into the portrait hole.  
  
"Something tells me you already know, and you're afraid." He whispered, then quietly followed in Timothy's wake.  
  
  
Timothy avoided the crowds leading toward the Quidditch pitch and instead went toward where he was told was the entrance to the Hufflepuff dorms. He knew that he couldn't get inside, but if he could wait by the entrance, maybe Luna would come out and he could catch her then. He walked down a corridor and became so caught up in his thoughts about the shadows he saw and the quest they sent him on, that he nearly walked into a large portrait of a map of the world.  
  
"Map." He said dumbly, moving away to back track his lost steps. Then he stopped. "Map! Of course! I'm so stupid!"  
  
The Marauder's Map would tell him where on the Hogwarts grounds Luna was. He had locked it in his trunk after what had happened in the passageway, not wanting to be tempted to go out again. But it was the key to finding Luna. And Luna was the key to everything else.  
  
He wasn't stopped before he reached Hagrid's portrait.  
  
"Shouldn't yeh be at 'da match, Timothy?" He asked with his booming voice.  
  
"Forgot something." Timothy said simply and impatiently. "Unicorn hair."  
  
Hagrid swung open and Timothy raced up to his dorm and flew open his trunk. With some easy searching he found the rolled and worn piece of parchment. He unrolled it and muttered the words to reveal it's many known, and unknown passageways and rooms… as well as the many dots of people on the grounds. After pouring over the map for five minutes, he finally found the dot labeled "Luna Dine". However, right next to it was "Eian Dumbledore" and "Alan Cott". Alan Cott he recognized, he was an auror who was in the Circle with his parents.  
  
Timothy couldn't possibly have a private conversation with her if she was with not only Dumbledore, but with an auror who often saw his parents. With a grunt of frustration, Timothy muttered the words that cleared the map, rolled it up and placed it back in his trunk.  
  
"I'll never figure this out." He fell back on his bed and stared angrily at the curtain covering his four poster. "Why did you leave this up to me? Why do I have to find the stupid crest? Why is it that I have to do it alone?"  
  
The silence answered for him as tears threatened to break his eyes.  
  
Because you are the son of Harry and Renee Potter… who said it would be easy?  
  
Timothy laughed dryly to himself, turning over on his stomach so he could see out the dorm window. He could just make out the crowd cheering in the distance at the Quidditch match.  
  
"Well Timothy… you wanted to prove you're more than a name. You got what you wished for and more."  
  
  
The End-Of-Term feast caused the Great Hall to be adorned with scarlet and gold. Gryffindor had won the House Cup, much to Timothy's delighted surprise that Smith hadn't left so much of a dent in the points that it would cost them the cup. Among the festivities, Timothy forgot about all that had happened. He forgot about what he was destined to do. And he even forgot about Luna, who was sitting directly across from him at the Hufflepuff table. Staring at him from a quiet distance, unnoticed by anyone.  
  
It wasn't until he was sitting in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express with John and Darian that the thought occurred to him.  
  
"I never did speak with Luna." He said sadly.  
  
"I still don't know why…" Darian started, arms crossed, but he stopped after seeing an intense look from John and he drew silent.  
  
"You can speak with us, you know." John said quietly, looking down at his shoes which masked the fact that he was a full inch taller than Darian, who sat next to him.  
  
"Yeah," Timothy said distantly. Then, without knowing why, he stood up. "I think I'm going to take a walk down the train and see if I can find the witch with the food cart. Want something?"  
  
Darian and John shook their heads, and watched him as he left the compartment.  
  
I can tell them, but only after I get answers. He said to himself.  
  
What Timothy was really doing was looking in each compartment to see if Luna was even on the train. He went down to the back, where the first years mostly were… but didn't see her. Sighing heavily, hope dwindling even more, Timothy turned to go back… but something brown and small in the very last compartment made him stop.  
  
He reached the door and looked in the window, and there, sitting alone next to the window was little Luna Dine. Her shoulder length brown hair was frazzled, and she looked off color and thinner than normal. Timothy slid the compartment door open gently; she didn't even look up.  
  
"Hello." He said stupidly, closing the door behind him.  
  
Luna sniffled a little, then fell silent once more, not once looking over at him. Timothy let out a deep breath and sat across from her. She looked a lot smaller than she actually was, and her small green eyes were dark from stress.  
  
"I've been looking all over for you for weeks," Timothy started after a few awkward minutes. "I want to talk with you."  
  
"Why?" Her voice was barely audible, and Timothy had to think a moment before answering to make sure that she even talked. She still didn't look at him, only out the window.  
  
"Isn't it obvious?" Timothy blurted without thinking, and blushed sheepishly as Luna squinted her eyes closed hurtfully. "I mean, from what I was told… if it weren't for you, I'd still be trapped in that Offender's Oubliette right now."  
  
Luna didn't respond right away, eyes still closed, but she slowly shook her head.  
  
"It's my fault you were there in the first place. You should hate me… never want to see me again." She whispered, her voice choked as she obviously tried to hold back tears that had been wept many times before.  
  
"You know that's not true," Timothy said soothingly, wishing desperately for her not to cry. "It was Smith's fault… he used you against your will."  
  
"That… that's not… en-entirely t-true." Her jaw clenched tight as it became harder for her not to cry.  
  
"What do you mean?" Timothy asked.  
  
"He t-threatened my mother. She… she's his aunt and he's my cousin. He told me that it was helping to protect her… that you… that you threatened our family. I didn't know what he meant, but I wanted to help him. When I found out what he really meant… and who he was working for…" She let out a sob and buried her face into her hands.  
  
Timothy drummed his fingers on his knees nervously, not knowing what he should do. All he could think of was continuing.  
  
"You did something with the Glass of Tears." He said.  
  
She nodded, her hands still covering her face and only messing up her hair more.  
  
"I knew y-you weren't a bad person. How could you be? Your parents save us all from You-Know-Who. How could you threaten anyone? But when I found out he was working with his second cousin, Draco Malfoy, and what they planned to do… I-I couldn't continue to help and know that you were going to die."  
  
"What did you do with it?" Timothy pressed.  
  
Luna took a deep breath, uncovered her face, but stared down at her feet as she spoke.   
  
"They gave me the glass before they installed it and told me to dip it in some sort of potion. It's purpose was to instantly kill whoever looked through it if they should ever find it. I'm not sure why there would be a way out if it was an oubliette. Yet I knew about the wall inside. Anyway, they sent me away to dip the glass. The whole time I was crying… I didn't want to do it… I knew what it would do. I had to do something. That was when I tripped, and some sort of powder fell over me. In my frustration, while holding the glass, I yelled how I wished there was someone who could help me help you. Well, suddenly, I was no longer in the room in the passageway, but in some sort of house. This man... I thought he was you father... came out and nearly hexed me. Thinking he was Harry Potter, I blurted out the plan in hopes that he could do something. To make a long story short… I somehow got transported in time and was not facing your father, but your grandfather. I still don't know if he believed me, but he took the glass and did something to it. Then he handed it back to me and told me I was to go back to my time, dowse myself in the powder again, and to go into the future to find yourself as an adult and your father."  
  
"What did my grandfather do to the glass?" Timothy asked, awestruck.  
  
Luna shrugged.  
  
"I said I don't know. He had it for a long time, while I stood in his kitchen. I'm not sure what he did for that whole time, but he knew something I didn't, that's for sure."  
  
"Well?"  
  
"The time-travel powder only lasts for so long, and so I came back to our present time… then did what he told me to do. I went into the future, saw yourself as an adult and your father… and they did the same exact thing with the glass. They didn't tell me anything about what they did, only that to make sure that the wall in the oubliette would give you a clue as to how to solve it. I came back, gave Taku the glass… then secretly did a spell on the oubliette that would cause the wall to give you clues."  
  
Timothy stared at her, speechless. Luna glanced briefly at his face and looked away.  
  
"If you're gonna ask about what you are like in the future, I was told not to say anything."   
  
Timothy opened his mouth to speak, but decided not to. Luna looked back to stare out the window and they remained silent until Timothy noticed they were nearing Platform 9 and ¾.  
  
"Luna," He said finally as he felt the train slow down. "Nothing could express how grateful I am for what you did. Thanks."  
  
For the first time, Luna looked up into his eyes and they no longer looked so dark.  
  
The door suddenly slid open and Darian, huffing and puffing and glaring at Timothy, stood in the doorway.  
  
"There you are! For crying out loud, we've been looking all over the place for you!"  
  
"Sorry." Timothy muttered, still looking at Luna. He smiled at her, and he could see a faint grin on hers as she looked away again. Darian grabbed his arm and began to pull him out.  
  
"Have a good summer, Luna." He called to her as Darian pulled him into the isle.  
  
"Here you are, cavorting with a girl while me and John worry like crazy! The nerve!" Darian muttered to himself as he dragged Timothy along, but Timothy wasn't listening.  
  
I still don't know about the crest. Oh, what am I going to do?  
  
"Here's your chest, Timothy." John pulled out Timothy's trunk, with Windstone's cage nestled on top. Windstone hooted nervously as Timothy made his way off the train and through the crowd.  
  
"Owl me, maybe you can come over and teach me some new moves on my broom." Darian slapped Timothy on the shoulder as he eyed his father somewhere on the platform.  
  
"Sure, see you later, Darian!" Timothy called after him.  
  
He looked to John, and John was staring solemnly at the couple he recognized as his parents off and away from the crowd.  
  
"Don't worry about it, Too Tall… you can come over my house anytime, no problem." He said, trying to cheer John with a smile. John smiled feebly back and gathered his things.  
  
"Send Windstone. I'll be waiting for him." He walked off and disappeared.  
  
"TIMOTHY! Timothy, Timothy, Timothy!"  
  
"Oh no." Groaned a voice from Timothy's pocket. Jeff had been stuffed in there from a long nap on top of his trunk for the ride home.  
  
Kalina came bounding toward Timothy and threw herself at him, very much the same way she did at Christmas.  
  
"Hey you." He choked as she grabbed his neck and her long brown hair covered his face as she pulled him down.  
  
"There you are!" Cried his mother, coming over and gently pulling Kalina away. He fell into her arms.  
  
"Mum!"   
  
"How are you sweetheart?" She kissed him on the head.  
  
"My turn."  
  
Timothy pulled away and ran to his father, who nearly picked him up when he caught him.  
  
"Hey there, how's it going?" His father laughed, putting him down and ruffling his hair.  
  
Timothy looked up at him and his mother, and didn't answer right away. He leaned against his father's side as they led him off the platform before he finally whispered.  
  
"Fine, as long as I'm with my family."  
  
  
The journey begins.  
  
A/N: ::taps fingers nervously on desk:: Well, how was it? To be honest, the story (to me at least) was dragging and I was getting bord. Maybe because I'm anxious to get to that one parter and write something different. But don't worry, Timothy has yet another adventure in a new series. Ten guesses and a cookie to those who can figure out what Timothy's story is now based on ::winks::. Anywho, if this chapter seemed rushed and sorta-kinda confusing, blame my impatient quality that I share with my older brother Tim (he's Timothy's namesake, heehee). I don't like how Luna explained everything, and yes, I meant Timothy to explain twice how he solved the puzzle... to his father & to Eian. Oh well, time for something different. Don't expect Timothy to return for a while, but knowing me, I'll get impatient again and start writing it anyway.  
Now, the scoop with my website is that it's just a freak'n piece of #!%@#$%#$% ::horn honks in backround and mother comes to scold for bad language::. Ahem, sorry, but if you haven't already tried... IT WON'T LET A SINGLE SOUL IN TO IT, let alone be able to update it. So now, as my birthday is almost less than a month away now, I'm searching for a program that will help me learn HTML and build a professional & spiffy site on my own. If worse comes to worse, I'll buy one of those books. At least now I know what HTML stands for!  
Enough on that, now I would like to thank all of you wonderful people who review each and every time! But you know what? I'm an idiot and don't write down your names! But you know who you are! But low... what's this... ah, a certain person named Harry&Cho asked me about getting past the Water Temple in Zelda! Guess what? That's where I am now and this level is making me dizzy! But I have help, and that comes from a spiffy website that tells you step by step how to do EVERYTHING. Only I don't have the link memorized so you'll have to email me for it.  
So what can you expect next? I'm going to start writing "All I Can Give" this week. It will be one part, but you know how long my one parters are! Then I want to do something different again, if my mom won't torment (if I spelled that wrong, slap me) to begin work on my original novel again. I need beta readers for my one parter when I'm done, so if you would like to have an exclusive preview to it before it's posted, email me. Don't worry 007, I will beta read you story if I haven't already. Hey, this is long and I want to go enjoy this rare Florida super cold snap (it's 50 degrees outside! Eeek that's cold!) out at Disney so I shall leave you here. You know what you can do now? REVIEW! Yes, that's right!  
::throws on a fleece thingie and runs outside::  
~OrcaPotter 


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